by Neil Hunter
The blast lifted the guy off his feet and spread him against the wall. Slugs from the auto weapon peppered the floor and ceiling in wild arcs. The sound ceased as the guy crashed face down on the floor, his bleeding body twitching.
“Read him his rights?” Janek asked as he stepped over the body.
On the next landing they almost collided head-on with a trio of armed hard guys. The closeness didn’t allow for weapons to be brought into play.
Cade swung the SPAS in a vicious arc, clouting the nearest opponent across the side of the face. The guy grunted with shock, rolling back against the wall, losing his grip on the H&K he was carrying. Cade closed in and whacked him a second time, then grabbed him by the collar. He hauled the dazed guy across the landing, spinning him over the guardrail. The thug fell out of sight, emitting a short scream before he landed.
In the same heartbeat of time Janek slammed shoulder first into the closest adversary. The guy was big and broad, with a wide chest. Even so, he was driven off balance by Janek’s bone-crunching body slam.
Sensing the last man closing in, Janek threw a hard backhand. His fist sledged into the guy’s face, breaking bone and dropping him where he stood. Turning slightly, Janek met the big guy’s rush. The man had recovered quickly, but he made the fatal error of returning to the fight, unaware of who he was tangling with. His wild right swing was caught in Janek’s fist. The cyborg yanked the man forward, head butting him. The big man’s eyes rolled up into his skull as his body shut down in the wake of the terrific impact. He was dead before his bulk hit the landing.
Cade kicked the door, slamming it against the inside wall. He went through, Janek close behind, and found himself in a long, carpeted corridor. The floor was littered with empty food cartons and drink cans. The traffickers had brought chaos to the once luxurious building. Wall decorations were torn and stained. The floor was dotted with crumpled sleeping bags and even portable TV sets, evidence that the factory had been in operation for some time.
Raised voices greeted the Justice cops as they barreled into the corridor.
Janek picked up the first sign of movement as an armed trafficker burst from one room into the corridor. The trafficker’s H&K opened fire, filling the corridor with streams of slugs. Like most of his kind, the trafficker liked the feel and power of the weapon, but he was no trained gunner and he sprayed the area in an uncontrolled burst. The slugs went everywhere but at their intended targets, chewing holes in the walls and ceiling.
There was no sloppiness about Janek’s reply. He leveled the SPAS and pulled the trigger in a smooth, unbroken motion. The blast from the shotgun took the guy in midchest, kicking him yards back along the corridor, trailing long streamers of bloody debris from the cavity in his body. He cartwheeled against the wall, twisting and turning, already dead but still on his feet.
“Keep moving, T.J.,” Janek yelled, turning to lay a shot in the skull of another armed perp who stuck his head out into the corridor.
Cade, aware of their exposed position, fired at everything that moved, his tightly spaced shots dropping target after target. Together the Justice cops moved along the corridor, working as one, clearing the way around them with deadly precision.
They reached the double doors that appeared to be the center of activity. Janek shouldered the doors wide open, ducking as he went in. His sensors picked up rapid movement within the room, and he acted accordingly, knowing that Cade would be on his heels.
The wide, low-ceilinged room was filled with furniture and wooden tables holding a number of computer setups. Across the room were rows of filing cabinets.
There was also a trio of gun-wielding traffickers, screaming orders at each other as they turned their weapons on the pair of cops. Janek moved aside, his keen senses allowing him to anticipate the responses of the traffickers. Even as he moved, he triggered the shotgun and knocked one guy down with a single shot.
Cade dropped to one knee, lifting his own SPAS. He fired twice, each shot for a different target. The traffickers were driven to the floor in a split second, bodies torn to bloody shreds by the power of the combat weapon.
As Cade moved deeper into the room, checking it out for concealed traffickers, Janek slammed the doors shut. The cyborg scanned the room swiftly. “Looks like we got the jackpot.”
Cade was already dragging open the drawers of the filing cabinets. He rifled through the papers inside, tossing some of them to the floor. “Somebody has been through these already,” he grumbled. “Seems you were right, partner. Brak has already paid this place a visit.”
“Take a look at the computers,” Cade continued, still checking the room over.
Janek crossed to the line of computers. He laid down his SPAS and bent over the machines, keying in commands. He smiled as codes began to flit across the monitors. Janek liked nothing better than a challenge. He dragged up a seat and hunched over one of the keyboards, his fingers working swiftly as he tapped in deep-search commands.
Minutes passed as Cade searched the room from end to end. He found nothing of interest, convincing himself that Brak had stripped the place of any useful information. If there was anything left, it would be secreted somewhere within the microchips of the computers.
“Anything?” he asked Janek.
The cyborg nodded. “There’s something in here, T.J.,” he said. “I just need to break the codes.”
Cade crossed to the doors as he heard the thunder of feet in the corridor. Milt Schuberg’s voice rose above the din. Cade dragged open the doors and identified himself.
“Hey, T.J.” Schuberg grinned. His face was flushed and beaded with sweat. “Damned if we didn’t do it. Cleared the whole place. There’s a manufacturing setup on the floor below. All geared up to make that synthetic shit they’re peddling these days. Thing is the damn place has been trashed. Everything destroyed.”
“Call in your cleanup squads, Milt,” Cade said. “Sweep this place out.”
“You guys get anything?” Schuberg asked, poking his head into the room. He spotted Janek and peered over his shoulder. “Picked anything up?”
“Only interference,” Janek muttered icily.
Schuberg was too high on success to notice the sarcasm in the cyborg’s words.
“Any survivors?” Cade asked.
“Couple of walking wounded,” Schuberg said with a trace of regret in his voice. “They look well pissed off, T.J. I don’t think we’re the first bunch to hit them. Brak’s been here before us. Probably wanted to get his hands on the goodies before he quit town.”
“We left a pair cuffed down in the basement. They were baby-sitting the generator before we busted in and shut it down.”
Schuberg glanced at the computer bank, then back at Cade. “How come... ?” he began.
“The computers have their own power packs,” Cade explained. “They’re being charged up all the time the power is on. If the power’s cut, the packs cut in and stop the computers going down. There’s enough power in them to run for six or seven hours.”
Schuberg shook his head in admiration. “Jeez,” he said. “These designers think of everything. What next, huh?”
“I hear they’re going to invent something called the human brain,” Janek said very softly, just loud enough for Cade to hear.
“You want to show me this lab?” Cade asked, and followed Schuberg out of the room, closing the doors so that Janek could have the place to himself.
Thirty minutes later Cade rejoined the cyborg. Schuberg was busy with his cleanup squads. The android teams were cataloging every item in the building, then ferrying them out to waiting police vehicles for transfer to the central evidence vaults in the basement of the Federal Building.
Janek was still seated at the keyboard. He had finished tapping in information. The fingers of his right hand were resting on the keyboard’s sensor pads. Janek was drawing in the computer information through the sensors located beneath the skin of his own hand. He directed the electrical impulses into his own memo
ry banks. Once there, they were permanent and on instant recall.
“The memory banks had been cleared,” Janek said. “Somebody came in and wiped them. Probably took a copy on disk first. Thing is that whoever set up the program installed a command that had the computer retain all information in what they call a limbo file. As far as anyone could tell, the memory had been wiped. But actually the data had been hidden in a lost file with no way to get it back unless you knew the code.”
“And you worked out the code?”
“Naturally. I’m a distant cousin to the computer, remember. I speak its language on its own terms, not as a human keying in requests. So I can reason with it and get it to tell me the code sequence without initiating any wipe messages. It isn’t difficult, T.J. It’s no harder than talking to you and getting you to admit your faults.”
“Okay, Einstein, what did you dig up?” Cade asked, fishing out a cigar. He was vaguely aware that he found himself smoking the things whenever he and Janek had one of their heart-to-heart talks and the cyborg won hands down. The thought worried him a little.
“We’ve got a number of things here,” Janek explained. “The formulation for the synthetic hallucinogenic drug the traffickers have been making. The formula is quite simple, rudimentary, in fact. But it creates an easily produced and powerful drug in crystal form. Thunder Crystals is its street name. Next we have contacts and drop-off points running from New York all the way to L.A. Our traffickers have been expanding. T.J., if Brak runs true to form, these contacts could be next on his hit list. If he’s building his own network, he’ll want his own people in place, not people loyal to the Outfit. If I was in his place, it’s what I’d do.”
“Same here,” Cade admitted. He stared at the screen. “Harrigan mentioned something else during our little heart-to-heart. He was vague, but his suggestion was there are some high-powered financiers involved. Money men in the city. Harrigan figured these guys were in it for the fast money. If it’s true, they’re probably helping to launder the traffickers’ cash. We need something hard to tie them in with the traffickers.”
“Maybe this,” Janek said, bringing a fresh set of figures to the monitor.
Cade stared at the tangled overlay of figures, numbers and symbols. “What the hell is that?”
“I’d say a mixed code of some kind,” Janek explained. “Somebody decided to add a second security lock on the information. Could be we’ve got something juicy in among that mess. Deposit box numbers maybe. Account numbers. Take your pick. It might be the link we need to pin down these money men supposedly backing the Outfit, or it could just be a dead end.”
“Can you sort it out?”
“Maybe,” the cybo said. “It’s an oddball coding. Never seen anything like it before.”
“Man or machine code?”
Janek’s shoulders rose in his imperfect shrug. “I’d say machine code, but don’t quote me. Whatever, it’s going to take some breaking.”
“Can you do it?”
“I can try. I’ve got it up here,” Janek said, tapping the side of his head. “I’ll keep trying.”
“Okay, partner, we’re out of here. I want Loren Brak behind bars. He might have started this mess-but I’m damn certain I’m going to finish it.”
“We need a starting point, T.J. I’ve got a suggestion.”
“Go ahead. I’m open to offers.”
Janek tapped the monitor. “Here. Mid Town, Kansas. There’s information on a company called Mid State. Big freighting company town. Focal point for distribution of goods to all points. Has the railroad passing through. Ideal place for drug distribution.”
“We’ll run a check on the place,” Cade said. “If it shows promise, we’ll take a look.”
Chapter Five
Cade sat facing Braddock across the commander’s wide desk. The meeting had been at Braddock’s insistence. He was becoming worried the way the situation was developing, and in his usual blunt manner he laid it on the line for the Justice cop.
“It’s like a war’s erupted out there. The body count is going up by the minute.”
Braddock tossed a stack of report sheets across the desk for Cade to scan. “Hit-and-run raids in half a dozen locations. Officers in attendance have reported they’ve been faced by drug-distribution setups. Vehicle stores. Even a damn armory. And bodies everywhere they go. All belonging to the Outfit. There have also been attacks on homes belonging to Lorenzo and Shultz. This time it was only damage to the properties because that pair has vanished. No sight of them anywhere. I figure they’ve gone underground. Brak has put the fear of God in the whole outfit.”
Cade returned the reports. “He’s been cutting down the opposition. Breaking up the Outfit. He’s causing as much confusion as he can to take the heat off him while he cuts and runs.”
“T.J., I want that mother. Dead or alive, I want him out of harm’s way. Brak has a big bill to pay, and top of the list are our three guys. You can call this personal if you want, but I want Brak.”
“You and me both,” Cade said. “We’re ready to roll. Janek’s down in the armory right now, picking up weapons. There’s just one more thing I need.”
“Name it.”
“A chopper. If Brak’s heading cross-country, I want something we can track him with. And something that moves fast.”
Braddock picked up his phone, punched in a number, stared at the screen. “Bert, I want our best pursuit chopper fueled up and ready to go in thirty. Full complement of equipment, and make sure the damn thing is armed to the teeth. Call T.J. when it’s ready.”
“I’ll go see if Janek’s got anything from that info he got from the Outfit’s computer.”
“You really think there’s going to be anything worth salvaging from it?”
Cade shrugged. “Can’t be certain. But why go to all the trouble of hiding it and scrambling a special code if it’s useless junk?”
“How the hell would I know? You’re the detective. Hey, maybe it was done as a deliberate stall to waste our time.”
Cade grinned. “No way. Janek can decipher it while he’s flying.”
“Flying what, T. J.?”
Janek stood in the doorway, listening. He was dressed in a black one-piece combat suit similar to Cade’s. He also wore combat boots.
“We’re going after Brak,” Cade said. “In a chopper. Your name came up as pilot.”
“Thanks for giving me the choice.”
Braddock stood. “You got anything out of that spaghetti, Janek?”
Janek glanced at Cade, unsure what Braddock meant.
“Nothing to do with food, partner. The boss wants to know if you’ve decoded that computer info yet.”
“It’s taking a little longer than I anticipated,” the cyborg said. “But I’ll get there.”
“That’ll do for me. Just watch your backs, fellas. But take out these mad dogs before they kill half the population.”
“On our way,” Cade said. “First stop Mid Town, Kansas. I’m betting on that being the first stop on Brak’s list. He’ll want to dump anyone who doesn’t want to join his new setup.”
There was a stack of weaponry on Cade’s desk. He checked it over, smiling at Janek’s choice. The cyborg, using his inbuilt logic, had gone for a selection of weapons to cover all emergencies. Alongside compact auto weapons were long-range rifles fitted with laser sights and expanded magazines. The auto rifles, precision weapons designed for the military, were some of the best U.S.-made firearms available. Janek had also brought along grenades: stun, explosive and gas. Additional handguns lay next to flak jackets and a pair of carbon-steel combat knives.
“Enough?” Janek asked. If we’re aiming to fight a war,” Cade remarked.
Janek hefted a couple of ammunition boxes. “I’ll get these up to the roof.”
Cade sat down and punched in a number on the vid-phone. He watched the screen fuzz, then blur. He shook his head in annoyance. The heat wave was playing havoc with the transmission signals.
> He tried the number again. This time the vid-phone hiccupped, and Kate Bannion’s lovely face filled the screen. She smiled when she recognized Cade.
“Hi, T.J.,” she said.
“I’m going out of town for a while,” Cade said.
“Going to tell me why?”
“You heard about the gang killings?”
“You must be joking. They’re all we’ve been hearing about. Shootings. Murder. Destruction. What is going on in this town, T. J. Cade?”
“One guy wanting to get rid of his partners so he can run the whole business himself.”
“Loren Brak?”
“Been doing your homework.”
“Sure. I’m a good reporter. But you already know that. Brak had three partners, right? Villas. Lorenzo. Shultz. Villas is dead. My sources tell me Lorenzo and Shultz have run for the hills. Nobody knows where they are.”
“What other information have you picked up?”
“I heard a whisper that Loren Brak has quit the city. He’s vanished. Picked up his bags and gone.”
Cade grinned.
“Damn it, T.J., that’s where you’re going, isn’t it? After Brak. Has to be you. Doesn’t anybody else in your department do any dirty work?”
“Three of them did,” Cade said soberly. “And you know what happened to them.”
Kate nodded. “That was terrible, T.J.”
“They were slaughtered like cattle,” said Cade.
“Any idea by whom?”
“We’ve got a name. A hired gun called Tate Jessup. Doing Loren Brak’s dirty work.”
Kate stared at him for a while. “T.J., be careful. How long will you be away?”
“Can’t say. We have to find Brak before we can stop him.”
“Call me if you can. I’m hunting down a promising story now, but I’ll keep my ears open and I’ll pass along anything I can.”
“Will do, but I think this will be just a race to see who gets first to the finish line. If I can’t call, don’t fret, babe.”
Concern showed in her green eyes, and she began to speak. Just at that moment the vid-screen fuzzed over, and Kate’s image broke up. Her words were lost in a crackle of static. Cade heard something that sounded like love but he couldn’t be sure.