Thursday's Child

by Jolie Mason

  "None of this makes much sense." Hayden found herself wanting to offer him something. "We'll find him."

  "Yeah, and then what?" He sounded resigned, his voice rumbled under her shaking hands.

  Noise from the front of the art studio told her that Ace was here and in full senior detective mode. She stepped away from Gray with a small smile.

  Exiting the office, she veered toward Ace who frowned and stalked her way after apparently giving the poor sales woman a fine example of his surly mood. Hayden almost felt sorry for the woman. He hugged her tight despite her wet clothes, then, pulled away to ask, "What the hell happened?"

  "Someone overwrote the Navsys."

  Ace looked at her intently. "You're sure?" he asked.

  She nodded. "The car map was showing the precinct as the destination."

  "That's supposed to have safeguards."

  "Well, they didn't work."

  "I've got Cork and Millhouse working on the research and searching for that audio file. The safe house is ready."

  They shivered a little as he drove them to another borough. Hayden realized once they got there she didn't know which borough. She'd been so distracted she hadn't checked the Navsys as was her habit.

  The safe house was completely ordinary in every way. It was an aging brownstone that might have stood hundreds of years, maybe. The kitchens and bathrooms had any convenience you'd find in a hotel, and there was a dryer.

  She cheered inwardly, then walked back out to the common room. "Gray, I still need to talk to my partner. Throw your clothes in the dryer and go on up and take a shower." She tossed him a large bath towel that had been folded in the utility closet.

  It was clear he wanted to be in on the planning, but that was just what she needed to talk to her partner about. As he left the room, she met Randy's eyes.

  "Let's hope the file comes with instructions," he told her wryly. "There is nothing so far in any of the cloning files. We're working on Macy's personal files now."

  "Soldiers and operatives. That's my theory. Gray says Tanner Murphy appears to have changed completely, like he's been overwritten. He says he was a patriot, and it does look that way."

  Ace leaned back in a chair and knitted his hands together on his rounded belly. "We've had patriots go bat shit before and start killing for their cause. How can he be sure?"

  She looked toward the back of the house. "I don't think he can. They were friends of a sort. He admired the man, I'm sure."

  Ace had a habit of letting silences sit right where they could make a point. She looked up to find him speculating. She could see the active speculation written all over his face.

  "Stop," she said.

  "What did I do? I said nothing."

  "Stop worrying. I like Gray, but I don't really trust him yet. I keep waiting for Trustgov to get involved and bring us full circle, but there's too much room for all these people to tell us the version of events they find most useful. They've left no proof, have they?"

  She met his distinctly unhappy eyes.

  "That's our real problem, isn't it? They, whoever they are, are so many or so high, that there will be no proof. They will have contingencies for their contingencies, and the proof will be anticipated and removed, but we still have to keep Gray alive."

  He grunted. "Only it's a metro police investigation. The only way they can shut us down is politically. Once they do that we'll know our who. We need to see the mayor about a task force."

  "The only thing we have is Gray. The Mayor isn't going to give us an independent task force. Maybe, if we find an audio file, and it works. We could use that to argue other parties were involved, but, you know, that's a long shot."

  "I'm afraid we've really stepped in it here," she said and then leaned forward with her hands between her knees. "You could retire. Grab Mary and get out of here."

  "Do you think for a second she would consent to leaving you here to face this case, which is likely a career killer at the very least, by yourself." He shrugged. "You don't know my wife very well. She'd eat me alive."

  She giggled at the very real terror in his face. Mary was tough, but she was mostly calm, sweet and kind. Ace, however, often said she could rip his beating heart from his chest by simply crying a single tear.

  It wasn't anything Mary did. It was his love for her that made him live in the terror of disappointing her. He feared giving in to the urge to drink again. He feared betraying her trust.

  Hayden knew one day these two surrogate parents she'd found were going to fly away and leave her to see the world. As much as she loved the idea for them, she dreaded it for her. She'd gotten used to the family they had going, even if it was fragile and unconventional.

  It would also kill her if she'd stumbled into something that would take that away from Mary, who'd had enough big trouble in her life to date from her criminal family circle. She deserved happiness if anyone did.

  "I just think it wouldn't hurt to get Mary out of here," she told him.

  He shook his head. "She won't go. We need to focus on catching our murderer. He'll lead us to the higher ups. Presumably, the man will have their technology all over him. We can track them from there, but we gotta find him first."

  "But, not before we see if that audio file exists. If there is an easy way to take this guy down, I want that. I have a sneaking suspicion he has training that outclasses you and me by miles."

  He rose creakily. "All right. I'm going. You keep your eyes open," he said pointing at her chest. "And no public transportation."

  "Maybe not for the rest of my life."

  She watched him away, and then made the round of the townhouse closing curtains and shades, checking windows and getting the general feel of the place in case they had to get out fast. She heard the shower shut off in the back of the house. It had a very outdated water system which was probably why metro could afford it.

  She'd make sandwiches and see if she could glean anything else from her witness. It was possible he knew something he didn't know he knew. It was equally possible, a little voice said in her head, that he's lying through his teeth.

  She'd need more evidence either way.

  He walked through to the utility with a slight wave and covered in the towel she'd brought him. Her mind blanked a little.

  Gray had that wiry, runner's build she preferred, and clearly, he indulged in working out, if one were to judge from the dripping and defined muscles he had on display. She shook her head after he'd gone.

  Sandwiches, then information. Sandwiches....

  CHAPTER FOUR

  *

  Her witness was losing his mind. Being cooped up and under watch got to everyone, but it was especially hard for Gray. Some people don't do well in confinement, and Gray was one of them.

  She'd talked him into a workout the next morning, but frustration remained written on his face despite all the physical exertion he was putting in. She stopped jumping rope and watched him expertly using a bag to pummel something in his thoughts to a bloody pulp.

  "Gray," she called. "I think it's dead."

  He gave a final punch and caught the bag. "Not dead enough."

  She approached cautiously.

  "Probably not."

  "Detective Thursday," he said her name as if he had an opinion about it, one that might not be terribly flattering. She ignored his tone and focused on his question. "How do we get Romanov?"

  She thought about it. "I need something solid that connects him with Tanner."

  "And, we both know there won't be anything," he growled.

  "I suspect that, yes. This case will be built on witnesses, as many as we can find or a very lucky break. I've sifted the old personnel records. These guys had one hell of a head start on me. Just about everyone who was ever involved in this program is dead."

  He sat tiredly on a bench, and she joined him.

  "So what do you do then?" He pulled one of the gloves straps with his teeth to loosen it, and removed it with a tug.

&nb
sp; "I keep trying, but, Gray, you have to realize that some criminals get away with it. Everyone wants to think there's no such thing as a perfect crime, but it doesn't have to be perfect, does it? Just not prosecutable."

  She breathed a heavy sigh. "My worst day on this job was the day I realized I wouldn't catch everybody I went after, and we wouldn't prosecute all of the guilty ones. Then, I had to let it soak in that that was a good thing."

  He looked her way doubtfully. "That makes no sense."

  "Yes, it does. You and I want that burden of proof to be high because we have to live here. Also, I really don't want it on my conscience that I put an innocent man in prison one day."

  "This one is not innocent. He's going to get away with this, and we both know that. He's taken my whole life, and he just goes on with his business."

  "No, he won't just go on with his business. All that evidence is still being sifted. He's missed something somewhere. It's up to me to find it, me and about fifty other people who are really good at their jobs. Someone will find it."

  "Come on." She patted his knee. "Hit the showers. You need to be working the problem. You can help me go through some of Dr. Macy's experiment notes. God knows, I'll need a translation."

  He nodded. Hayden felt her heart constrict at his pain and loss. He'd lost more than just his life's work and a friend. She thought he was actually mourning his belief in people. Everyone goes through the process when you get a look at the darker side of human nature. As a cop, she knew the look. Had even seen it in the mirror.

  It happened to anyone who got far enough to be made detective. If you stick around that long, you come to understand people will do just about anything to each other, and for very little reason. This was a man who'd had the insulation of not knowing humanity's depths until a few days ago. It would take time for him to find a new reason to believe in the world. Some days, she thought she was still looking for hers.

  There were people who could make you believe again. One just had to look harder and allow for human faults at times. Even she had to admit, this was bad, worse than most of her cases. Using people as robots, killing innocents in their way and a massive conspiracy just to experiment on people who had lives to live, it was all somewhat overwhelming and mystifying.

  Thursday stood and tugged on his hand once. "Let's go catch bad guys."

  She just hoped that was possible, but she had her doubts on this one. So far, they'd been meticulous in destroying every scrap of data that could show a bigger plan was in the offing or connect individuals to a single crime. If they couldn't destroy the connections, they just destroyed the individual. It was insidious.

  Tanner Murphy was literally all the hope she had.

  If she caught him, and he told her everything that had been done to him; that was the start of her case against Romanov and whoever was backing him.

  She had investigators going over Romanov now. His money, his research, his life since the Trust cut him out were all on display for her team, and she wasn't lying. They would find something, but would it be enough?.

  As she waited for the shower, she started her search of the Doctor's lab notes dated the week he went missing.

  Gray walked out with his dark hair still damp. Thursday thanked whatever God there might be that he didn't see her lick her lips and have that inappropriate thought that was making her blush right now. He was an incredibly attractive man, though hardly her usual type.

  Work, she needed work.

  "Gray, I need a translation here."

  He went for the coffee she'd made earlier.

  "Go," he said looking like the talk and the shower had helped.

  "Here, he writes, subject has recall problem with primary and secondary programming, but not the tertiary command set under hypnosis. This suggests that the Parkway order set has been prioritized or commandeered memory meant for the Primary and secondary command set."

  "Well, the Primary command set was the set of programming that we were giving Tanner to enhance his medic training, specifically field surgery techniques. It didn't just teach the subject how or when to do a surgery, but, through bionics, it teaches a muscle memory of the event, so that it's as though you've done this surgery a thousand times before. It makes you, potentially, an instant expert. That's the goal."

  "The bionics programming is the secondary command set. What's Parkway?"

  "It sounds like a tertiary set of command controls, but I never knew about them. It's odd. What would they even do? There would be no need for a third command set."

  "Why the hypnosis?" She put her leg under her and reached for the muffin she'd set out before getting distracted earlier.

  "While awake, a patient can answer questions about what they know now thanks to the implants; but, under hypnosis, they can recite command codes as they appear line by line. It's a way for us to check the hardware in the brain or how well or unwell the synaptic connections are that transfer the information to be stored."

  "All right," she said. "That's more than a little creepy."

  "The potential pitfall with this research so far is in synaptic decay. Our technology stimulates formation of new synapses, but they don't last as long, and the age of the subject changes the effectiveness of the hardware. In other words, it works best on a young brain. The human brain has tremendous storage capacity, yet it limits itself. Why? That was one of the questions we've been trying to answer. It's the next big breakthrough the tech needs, a way to artificially stimulate lasting synaptic regeneration."

  She looked his way. "They burn out like fuses and you need some method to make more fuses. Got it."

  "Exactly," he said smiling. "Our bionics research is done over the course of five years per each patient. He receives data packets at each implantation of his bionics, then we monitor the information closely, watch his behavior, test his skills. We even inspect his home and observe him there to make sure no unexpected personality or emotional changes occur."

  "The goal of our program is to enhance the person without fundamentally altering them in important ways. It was why the requirements of participation stipulated subjects must be single and completely unattached. No close family relationships. It was the safest candidate pool in case something went wrong."

  "It's usually the safest victim pool as well," she said that out loud, without thinking. As she slowly realized what she'd said and the unbelievably horrible thing it implied, she studiously avoided his gaze, then decided to be an adult and look him in the eye. Though it might be true, it had been a stupid and careless remark. She had a tendency toward those.

  As she'd expected the look on his face was, indeed, horrified.

  "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It's how my investigative mind works, Gray. I speak everything I think sometimes, and I draw parallels between the familiar and unfamiliar to remember things. I'm sorry. So sorry. I don't believe you are to blame for this."

  "But I can blame myself, can't I? I trusted Macy and the Trust Research Division. All researchers face that danger. The danger of approaching their work with a certain amount of blind devotion and ego is always there, but this goes a bit too far, don't you think?"

  "I'm sorry." She couldn't think of another thing to say, and mentally cursed her loose tongue and socially awkward ways.

  He stood staring into his coffee cup. "Why should you be sorry? It's true, isn't it? My candidate pool was their victim pool. I'm just as guilty as they are."

  He stormed toward the door as Hayden watched helplessly. "No, Gray. I didn't think that."

  But he was already gone, and he wouldn't have listened anyway. Hayden knew the look because she wore the look at times.

  She tapped her comm. "Ace, keep an eye on the internals. Make sure he doesn't take off for some payback."

  Ace's gruff voice came through the line. "I couldn't blame him if he did. He's due."

  "I know, but we can't let him get his payback all over our case." She sighed.

  There would be a point where it woul
d happen, that payback. She just had to make sure he didn't ruin what was left of his life for it.

  *

  The doorbell rang and Hayden drew her weapon and slid over to check the camera. It was Ace. She opened the door and smiled.

  "Ooh, pizza!"

  She took the boxes with a gleeful sound. "Gray, pizza!"

  Gray came around the corner into the common room wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "That may be the happiest I've seen you."

  She held up the boxes. "It's pizza," she said as if that were the only possible explanation.

  Hayden ignored both men and their insulting jokes as she helped herself to the steamy, tomato goodness before her. Oh, my god, pizza, she thought.

  She heard Ace call her name and switch on the holo, drawing her attention reluctantly away from her appreciation of fine cuisine. The nightly news reporter for the Metro area was giving an update.

  "Sad news in the metro area today as we get reports of the death of one of our own here at Sat-Net, Jason Hernandez. He reported news here in the Upper Boroughs for ten years, and he will be sorely missed."

  "Police this evening are releasing no details of his death other than the fact that foul play is suspected."

  She put her pizza down, no longer hungry.

  "Ace, tell me no. Tell me this isn't what I'm thinking."

  "I can't tell you that," he said. "We were wrong, kid. We thought he'd been programmed specific targets, but it looks like he's off the script. He left this at the scene."

  Ace held out a trans file in his left hand. "It has vid," he said with obvious dread in his voice.

  The vid slot was in the side of the holo which she switched back to flat screen because no one needed to watch crime scene in life sized full dimensions.

  She'd known Jason enough to speak to him when they met. He'd interviewed her after the Chinatown fire.

  She sat back down on the sofa, pulling Gray down beside her. The jumpy video got worse for a few seconds, like someone was trying to adjust it.