The Last City

by Nina D'Aleo

  Copernicus glanced over at him. ‘Too hot?’

  ‘No, it’s good,’ Eli lied.

  Copernicus raised an eyebrow. He killed the heater and opened a window, letting in a rush of cool night air. Lights buzzed by all around them.

  Eli sighed in relief and checked the navigator on the dashboard. The coordinates read 20–3–20. Eli’s eyebrows shot up.

  ‘Greenway Central?’ he asked. It was one thing to go to the breakwall on the very border of Galley territory – that was usually safe during daylight hours – but entering inner Greenway at any time was like straying into a war zone.

  The commander nodded slowly. ‘Christy Shawe is behind all the recent killings – I know he is. Something big is going down in the Gangland and the only way we’re going to get a lead is to target the source.’

  ‘The superiors will never sanction a raid without strong evidence of wrongdoing,’ Eli reminded him. ‘They don’t want anyone interfering with the Gang Squad’s work.’

  ‘The Gang Squad,’ Copernicus repeated with disdain. ‘What have they ever done that’s been of any use? It doesn’t matter, though, we’re not entering Greenway officially; we’re going in on our own time, just to observe Shawe’s movements.’

  Eli nodded and gulped. The first time he had met Christy Shawe was back in the days when, as kids, Copernicus had run with Shawe and the Galleys. The commander had befriended Eli, intrigued by all his inventions and ideas, but Shawe had given him significant grief, only tolerating him at all because of Copernicus. Eli had been scared to death of Shawe then, and he was equally, if not more, scared of him now. Once Shawe had yelled at him so loudly that he had almost peed his pants and, in fact, he felt like peeing them again just thinking about it. He rubbed his sweaty palms along his jeans and bit his lip.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Copernicus said. ‘No contact, just surveillance.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ Eli said with a trembling voice.

  Copernicus closed the craft window and turned the music off. ‘Have a look at the crime file I uploaded to your system and tell me what you think.’

  Eli activated his holo-screen and found the file. He flicked through the crime scene information, studying the pictures taken by SevenM of the victims and the surroundings.

  ‘Well, I can say that it looks like four of the six victims at the first scene died from injuries inflicted during torture, and that the other three hollowed-out victims, the two at the first scene and the one at the second, appear to have been killed by the same person, or at least by the same weapon, but I’ve never seen injuries like these before. It looks to me,’ he squinted at the images, ‘as though something has come out of their bodies and not in. I mean, look at the way the skin is ripped.’

  Copernicus glanced at it and nodded. ‘What sort of weapon could create that wound? Something swallowed then expanded inside their stomachs?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Eli’s mind sped through possibilities. ‘But from my viewing of the second body, I don’t think so. It wasn’t just an explosive puncture wound, like an implanted or swallowed weapon would cause. It looked more like something had entered the body and consumed or overtaken it, then broken out. I mean, the body was little more than just skin, and that’s consistent with . . . well . . .’ He hesitated to say it.

  Copernicus did it for him. ‘Demonic possession. Exactly what I didn’t want to hear.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Eli said.

  The commander shook his head. ‘We have to find out if Shawe has made a deal with any of the dark-magics sects still in operation and, if so, which one.’

  Eli nodded. He scrolled further into the information. ‘Diega ran a blood match for the missing Androt – Kry 939993 – but he has no priors and no record. Mrs Parkingham said she thought the Androt had surprised burglars, attacked and killed one of them and then been killed or injured himself and taken away.’

  ‘Not likely,’ Copernicus said. ‘If Kry killed the invader, it means that he was also the killer at the first crime scene. You said the wounds are identical. More likely the invaders broke in for another purpose, he got in the way, injured one of them, and then the other invaders finished the injured one off for whatever reason and —’

  ‘Took him,’ Eli said.

  Copernicus’ eyebrows drew together in thought. ‘A dead or unconscious Androt weighs a ton – it would be very difficult for most people to lift him without magics.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t see any dark symbols there,’ Eli said. ‘Doesn’t mean there weren’t any though, I guess. You know, even if we find out it is something to do with a dark sect, we can’t present the evidence anyway. I get the feeling the palace enforcers are waiting for any excuse to lock you up. At the first mention of dark magics they’ll be dragging us in.’ Eli shivered at the thought of the big lizard-breed guards.

  ‘I’m not concerned about the enforcers,’ Copernicus said. ‘The only important thing is to find out what’s happening and to stop it. What are your thoughts on this?’ He took an object out of his pocket and handed it to Eli.

  It was the ring the commander had shown to Ev’r Keets. It sat heavy in his palm. ‘Ironfist Shawe’s ring,’ Eli said with a stirring of trepidation. Ironfist Shawe, Christy’s father, had been a bushy-faced barbarian who drank so much he must have had alcohol instead of blood running through his veins. He’d lived hard and taken anything he wanted from anyone. He earned a fearsome reputation for his violence, but never the title of King of the Gangland that his son now owned. Ironfist had died in a blazing shootout with the United Regiment. Even the memory of the fierce gangster was enough to make Eli tremble.

  ‘Brabel found it at the first crime scene,’ the commander told him. ‘But when we went to question Shawe about it, he was wearing the same ring. I only remember one ring from that time, though. What about you?’

  ‘I only remember the one as well, but maybe Christy had a replica made so that the real one wouldn’t be stolen or damaged. Maybe Christy dropped the replica at the crime scene and put on the real one to cover it up,’ Eli suggested.

  Copernicus considered this, his eyes moving left to right. ‘Yes, maybe, but it wouldn’t be like Shawe to worry about things getting stolen or damaged.’

  ‘I guess not,’ Eli said. He lifted the ring closer to the lights. ‘It’s not gold or silver or a gold blend. I’m not sure what it is. I have a friend, Solvang Steel. He’s an expert in metals and works for the Counterfeiting Squad. I can scan the ring and send the report to him. He’ll be able to tell me what it is and it might give us a lead on where and when it was made.’

  ‘Good,’ Copernicus agreed.

  Eli took his scanner from his weapon belt and ran the light over the ring. He wrote a brief message to Solvang and sent it, before handing the ring back to Copernicus.

  As he did, the commander said, ‘Eli, I need to ask you a favour.’

  Eli felt a glow inside himself. He’d never heard Copernicus asking anyone for assistance, ever.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ he said eagerly.

  The commander paused to choose his words carefully. He glanced in the rear-vision mirror. ‘I need a blood and flesh substitute that owns all the properties of actual blood and flesh – real and fresh.’

  ‘Like for an injury graft?’ Eli asked.

  ‘No,’ the commander replied.

  Eli’s mind wrestled with understanding. ‘Okay, can I ask what it’s for?’

  ‘No,’ the commander repeated. ‘It’s unofficial. Very unofficial.’

  Eli nodded. Unofficial meant illegal.

  ‘So unofficial that I don’t even want you to work on it. I just want you to tell me what to do and I’ll do the work. It’s for a friend – an old friend – who needs my help. It’s urgent.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we can come up with something,’ Eli said. ‘I’ll need a bit of time in my lab.’

  ‘Fine, but don’t keep any records,’ Copernicus said.

  ‘Only in here.’ Eli tapped the side of his head
.

  The commander’s new communicator made a sudden choking sound and emitted a high-pitched squeal the way it had in Eli’s office. Copernicus unclipped it from his belt and handed it to Eli. He worked quickly and killed the sound.

  ‘I’m going to have to do some extra work on this one,’ he said. ‘I think it may be reacting with your body system. You can take my com into Greenway and I’ll pick up the signal on the craft’s system.’

  ‘I’m not going into Greenway,’ Copernicus told him.

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘You are going into Greenway.’

  Eli stared at him.

  ‘I set foot in there and I’m dead,’ the commander continued. ‘You know the streets as well as I do and you can fly. You can keep to the rooftops and shadows – blend in. An informant told me there’s a big meeting tonight between all the gangs. That’s never happened before. SevenM is tracking Shawe. So all you have to do is use your system to track SevenM and he’ll lead you there.’

  ‘I don’t know, boss, I really don’t know. What if I get caught?’ Eli asked, his fear written on his face.

  ‘You won’t,’ the commander said. ‘I have every confidence in you. You need to learn to trust yourself. You should unbind your wings now, we’re almost there.’

  Eli gulped and reached behind himself to untie the bindings that kept his wings under control while he was in company. Copernicus steered the transflyer in for a landing. He brought the craft down on a quiet side street in Hackside, the suburb backing Greenway, the towering breakwall separating the two.

  The commander turned to him. ‘I’ll wait here. Remember, we need to know if Shawe’s made a deal with a dark sect and, if so, which one.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Eli whispered. The passenger side door lifted up and Eli forced himself to slide out.

  *****

  Eli fluttered on lithe, semi-translucent wings across the Greenway rooftops towards SevenM’s signal. Shouting voices, blaring Galley fiddle music and zaps and bangs of electrifiers resounded through the air all around him. A stream of electricity carved up the darkness right ahead of him and Eli dropped down onto a roof for a moment’s rest and a chance to control his tremors. He leaned against a chimney pipe, panting.

  ‘Hey, you!’ a gruff voice with a Greenway accent yelled behind him. ‘What do you think you’re doing up here?’

  Eli turned slowly towards the man, while counting silently back from forty-six to stop himself from passing out. He didn’t dare to breathe or raise his head.

  ‘I said, what are you doing up here?’ the man repeated. Sour smoke from his cigar tickled Eli’s nose. The man stepped closer and Eli, half-hidden by shadows, murmured something, imitating the cadence of the Greenway accent as best he could.

  ‘Well, get down then!’ the man said. ‘No Spats allowed up here. Don’t make me tell you twice.’

  Eli sprang to the fire escape ladder, not daring to fly in front of the man. He hurried down the metal stairs, silently repeating thank you thank you thank you to the Khaiti God who had given him a body that was easily mistaken for that of a Spat, the child gangsters too young to be fully initiated into any gang and too old to be with their mothers. They ran feral for a while before they were accepted into one of the gangs.

  He landed in the side street with a thud that jarred his feet and took off running through cluttered alleys, through shadows with faces, his heartbeat hammering and breath coming in ragged gasps. A cardboard box tripped him and he fell, sprawling onto the concrete. The contents of his pockets spilled out around him. Ignoring the sting of his grazed hands, he began to frantically grab up his belongings. As he snatched his remote systems machine, he accidentally activated its holo-screen and the last image of the first crime scene he’d been studying flashed up. He quickly deactivated it, but before he did, he noticed something he had previously missed – the face of a Wraith was looking out from one of the walls at the scene. The image vanished and he scrambled to his feet. He checked the locator and saw the dot representing SevenM drifting across the screen. Obviously Christy Shawe was on the move, on his way to the meeting that the commander had spoken about. They were coming closer towards him.

  Eli followed the signal, moving out of Greenway, where the Galley’s horn-and-fist symbol was painted over every wall, into neutral territory. It was in the centre of the Gangland, but no gang owned it. SevenM’s location spot paused again and Eli managed to catch up with it. He followed it to the base of a building and, checking left to right to make sure no one was watching, whirred his wings and flew up to the flat roof. As he landed, he saw a momentary blink of red lights – SevenM beckoning him. He ran, bent double, to where the spider robot was crouched in the shadows, his eyelights turned off. SevenM nodded to him and Eli looked into his eyes and gave a shaky thumbs-up to Jude, who would be watching through the robot.

  A babble of voices broke out in the distance and Eli followed SevenM as the robot climbed over several more rooftops towards the source of the sound. They reached the final building, which had a skylight cut into its flat-topped roof.

  Eli crawled to the edge of the building and looked down over the famous Whitlow Square. It had once been the stage of so many gang rumbles and deaths that it became known as the battlefield, but was later agreed to be neutral territory. Crowds of gangsters were filling the square. The centre of Whitlow was dominated by the gang second in rank to the Greenway Galleys – the Crook’d Town Pride. The mass of hyped and boisterous Pride members had geared up in their best gold and purple dress. They, like all the other gangsters, were infected with a delirium-like excitement, a dangerous invincibility. It rippled the air electric like a new summer wind. The Pride members paced and stalked, greeting each other loudly with the gang’s call of Prey together, stay together, and flashing the Pride sign. The Pride girls, known as Esses, wore short skirts and shorter tops and flirted with the men.

  Eli saw a definite hierarchy in the massing Pride. Dukes, generals and foot soldiers kept to one side, while the princes and family girls, those Pride by blood as opposed to those traded in from other gangs, stood on the other. In a circle around the Pride, the gang’s lions and other great felines sat with calculated patience, eyes of infinite understanding and sorrow fixed into the distance as they waited for Caesar, their leader, to appear. They sensed his presence in the absence of light.

  The other gangs spread out around the Pride as they arrived in basic order of Gangland hierarchy. The whip cries of Kelly’s Crew rivalled the maniac yells of the Northside Chaos – the third and fourth ranked gangs. After them, was the Eastern Rim Mafia, standing silently, all dressed in black, with black bowler hats and their gang beasts, the Jada – part-avian, part-puma – crouching beside each man. The Western Rim Taipans, ranked next, were wearing copper-coloured clothing with the gang symbol of the snake on their backs. Each member had a deadly adder draped around his shoulders, to which the West Rim had natural immunity. Following them was the League, ruled by a tech-head called Minimum Maximum. They stood on hover-bikes and speed-drift platforms, a small but wealthy gang due to the technology they created and peddled.

  Following the League in rank were LD’s Troopers, all dressed in camouflage, majestic golden eagles riding on their shoulders. On the tail of the Troopers the Tribal Boys galloped in on their spotted and striped horses. They’d painted their faces with the gang symbol and held spears in one hand, raising them up and giving long high-pitched cries. These calls were soon replaced by the howl of the Hound Boys and their dogs, the big pack renowned for its ability to track food. One of the hounds just barely missed the snapping jaws of a blue-belly alligator as the Bay Boys arrived. The ragtag H-Town Mob followed them into the square together with the Penny Little Alliance (a union between two small gangs, Penny Place and Littletown). The Peacetown Pack was second last, along with the Bell-Tower Bulls, with horned helmets and rings through their noses. Finally the Wolf-Tower Weres and their wolves slunk into the square. The scruffy, bearded gangsters
snarled with sharpened canines and were avoided by all. They were known as the scavengers of the Gangland, violent and unpredictable, half-crazed from drinking weir water. The final and only unofficial gang appeared on the tops of the buildings on the opposite side of the square. They were the Rooftoppers, or as the other gangs called them, the Gone Girls. They were the only all-female gang and had not been accepted by their male counterparts. All the gangsters kept to their own, while standing uneasily close to bitter rivals – everyone right on the edge of an all-out Gangland war.

  At the sound of nearby footsteps, Eli and SevenM flattened themselves into the shadows of the rooftop ledge. The door to the roof swung open and Caesar K-Ruz, Pride leader, and Smudge K-Ruz, Caesar’s first cousin and leading Pride girl, stepped out under the lantern light. Eli remembered them both well from his time around the gangs. Caesar was very big and muscular with pure black hair and lion eyes that, like the commander’s, could see beneath the skin. Smudge was a stunning beauty, her gang name originating from the brown birthmarks all over her face and body.

  The mighty gangster boss moved to the edge of the roof and looked down over the square, while his shadow, in the form of a giant lion, stayed guarding the door. Eli held his breath hoping the shadow would not sense him. Smudge moved to Caesar’s side, her big black cat, Inski, slinking around her legs.

  ‘No sign of the Galleys,’ Smudge said. ‘Looks like Christy Shawe’s going to be a monkey’s arse about this.’