The Robots of Gotham

by Todd McAulty

  “Excellent.” He seemed genuinely satisfied. “I appreciate your trust.”

  “You’ve earned it,” I said.

  “I’m fortunate you think so. You see, Mr. Simcoe, the AGRT is a marvelous organization, with the resources to do great things for this country. And it’s staffed with people who have made great sacrifices to be here, and who—as I’m sure you’re aware—will be called upon to do even more before they go home. But the Americans . . . well . . . the Americans don’t see the AGRT the same way you and I do.”

  “They see an occupying army,” I said flatly.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly right. I appreciate your bluntness. They see an occupying army. And really, who can blame them? The victorious forces of the National Army of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela pacified this city only a scant few months ago. Those forces are gone now, and in their place is a peaceful international coalition with over a dozen member countries—most of whom had absolutely no involvement in the war. But the Americans, a conquered people, they see only foreigners in a uniform, yes?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Perez sighed. “The truth is, it falls to us in the AGRT to educate the Americans on precisely why we are here. What we can do for them, and how we can help them. Should the Clarksville negotiations go one way, then we will be called upon to smoothly return Sector Eleven to American control, and we would be delighted to do so. But should they go a different way, then this sector will become part of the Republic of Venezuela, and we will be called upon to act accordingly.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “But in either case, our job in the AGRT is crystal clear. We are to maintain order, aid in the peaceful repopulation of urban Chicago, and help the city prosper again. Until the people have our trust, we cannot expect them to return to the city. Until they return, the city will not prosper. Until it prospers, our job is incomplete. Do you see?”

  “Of course.”

  “Excellent.” He frowned slightly, and seemed to be choosing his next words carefully. “Mr. Simcoe, it will surely come as no surprise to you that, in any organization as large as the AGRT, there are . . . internal disagreements. Malcontents. Those who do not share our grand vision for sustainable peace between our peoples. Poor soldiers, if you will.”

  “Sure,” I said. Where the hell is he going with this?

  “Those soldiers can do harm to the entire peace process, if they are not rooted out and dealt with. Of course, any good leader cultivates a successful network of trusted eyes and ears to police his organization, and that is exactly what I have done.” He raised the index finger on his left hand and wagged it forcefully. “Any soldier under my command who does not operate with the highest degree of integrity in his dealings with the citizens of Section Eleven is answerable directly to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “And, as you will appreciate, the situation is identical outside the AGRT. There are many who understand and appreciate us, and there are those who are . . . malcontents. Who oppose our good work, either through malice or simple misunderstanding. Just as I must be vigilant with my own troops, I must be vigilant with those on the outside who are working against us. And just as I have created an internal network to police my soldiers, I have made considerable effort to cultivate individuals outside the AGRT with a keen eye for trouble. Individuals who can aid us in preventing serious misunderstandings and make sure our response is appropriate. Ensure we do not overreact to a harmless complainer and point us toward those whose methods may run to senseless violence.”

  “That seems wise.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” He pointed at the kettle and mugs. “Would you care for tea?”

  “I’d be delighted,” I said. I don’t usually drink tea, but what the hell. Today, I would drink tea.

  He made a great ceremony of pouring two cups and handing me one. There was no sugar or milk, and the tea smelled strongly of jasmine.

  We drank in silence for a while. The tea was mostly aroma and didn’t have much flavor. But it was warm and comforting.

  “I get the sense,” Colonel Perez said, “that you are someone who is fairly experienced in sensing trouble.”

  I chuckled again. “I wish that were true. Or at least, I wish I could smell it from a distance. I don’t seem to be much good at avoiding it.”

  “You are too modest. Word of your recent contributions to our peacekeeping efforts has already reached this office. The way you volunteered to recover two fallen AGRT soldiers, in the tunnels under the city. You are also, it would appear, someone who knows how to handle himself.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “I do not think so.”

  I think so. I think that’s exactly what you’re doing, and you’re not even making an effort to hide it. Out loud I said, “How is it I can help you, Colonel?”

  “I would like you to take a more active role in peacekeeping in this city. I would like you to devote a portion of your time to outreach. To finding and encouraging individuals who could make a positive contribution to the cause of peace, if properly motivated. And to help us isolate the worst of the especially violent troublemakers.”

  “I see.”

  “Of course, the AGRT would be more than happy to compensate you for your time. We value these efforts on our behalf very highly. You would find our compensation in these matters can be . . . surprisingly generous.”

  I put my tea back on the table and folded my hands in my lap. “You want to pay me,” I said, “to spy on Americans.”

  “To gather valuable intelligence on those individuals actively working against peace.”

  “That sounds like spying to me, Colonel.”

  “You are not interested?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just need to think about it.”

  “Of course.”

  “Is there any individual, or individuals, you’d like me to focus on?”

  The colonel smiled. He rose from his chair, walked to his desk, and picked up a tablet. He strode back and handed it to me.

  The tablet displayed an image of me, of course. In the combat suit, standing in front of the Orbit Pebble. It looked like footage from one of Van de Velde’s soldiers.

  “Oh,” I said. “This guy.”

  “You are familiar with him?”

  “A little bit. Didn’t he break into the Sturgeon Building?”

  “Yes.”

  “And there are rumors he was the same guy who broke into the Field Museum?”

  “You are remarkably well informed.”

  Well, this was supremely ironic. The colonel wanted to hire me to find myself. If I were smart, I would probably say yes, since Van de Velde was going to give him that information for free in the next forty-eight hours.

  Unfortunately, I’m just not that smart. I set the tablet down on the table. “Don’t be impressed. The American and Union press have been talking about him for days, and he’s a hot topic of conversation here in the hotel. You said you want intelligence—if all you want is gossip, I can sell you that wholesale.”

  “So you believe it is a single individual, then?”

  “Do you mean, do I believe reports that there’s a secret cell of American resistance fighters active in the city?”

  Perez raised an eyebrow. “Now I am impressed. That is privileged information I thought was available only to a select group.”

  “It’s a lousy theory that anybody could come up with.”

  “You do not believe it, then?”

  “Colonel, I believe what I see. And what I see is one guy, in an American combat suit. You want to imagine a whole army, go ahead. But I see one guy; I believe in one guy.”

  Perez drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I happen to agree with you.”

  “Terrific. But unless you want my assistance critiquing ridiculous theories, I’m still not sure how I can help you. I don’t know anything about this soldier, and I seriously doubt we run in the same social circles. I’m sure
it would be wonderful to take your money and do nothing, but I believe in giving value for pay. And to be completely truthful, it doesn’t sit right with me to be paid to spy on my fellow guests.”

  Perez nodded, but didn’t respond.

  “However . . .” I said. “Perhaps we could come to an arrangement.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re aware of the situation of the refugees outside the hotel?”

  “Certainly. I’ve put an extra squad of soldiers on the street, both for additional hotel security, and to make certain the refugees are safe.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m working with a group of individuals trying to secure housing for the entire body of refugees in this hotel.”

  “This hotel?” Perez didn’t seem particularly surprised. “I would imagine that would present a considerable logistical challenge. I speak with the hotel manager, Mr. Renkain, on a daily basis, and I hear constantly how he barely has enough resources for the guests he has.”

  “Mr. Renkain is one of the chief individuals involved.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes. In fact, we’ve overcome most obstacles very quickly. We believe we’ve secured sufficient funding, food, and new manpower to allow the hotel to accommodate the refugees.”

  “Mr. Simcoe, you continue to surprise me. You are a man of considerable resources.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t take much of the credit. But I would very much like to assist in removing the final two obstacles. Both, I’m afraid, involve you.”

  “Me? How can I possibly be involved?”

  “Please don’t be modest, Colonel. The truth is that as far as the new social and economic status of the city of Chicago is concerned, you are the primary decision maker.”

  He laughed. “Now it is you who are flattering me.”

  “I don’t believe so. What we need is fairly simple. First, I need you to grant permits to Mr. Renkain to reopen a sufficient number of floors for the refugees.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s asking a great deal.”

  “I’m not done yet. To secure the funding, we will be holding a charity ball here in the hotel and inviting two to three hundred Chicago residents to attend.”

  “And you need my permission to hold this event.”

  “Much more than that. I need you as the guest of honor.”

  Perez had done a fine job displaying polite surprise at various times during our conversation. But not this time. This time he seemed genuinely startled.

  “Me?” he said.

  “You.”

  “Why me?”

  “No one in Chicago will pay a hundred ninety-five dollars a plate to talk to me, or to Mr. Renkain, or anyone else of my acquaintance. No, the only real draw I have is you. The man who pulls all the strings in the city. The man who can make anything happen.”

  He managed a laugh again. “I’m afraid that if that is your sales pitch, you will not raise much money.”

  I smiled. “Colonel, you just need to show up. Leave the sales pitch to me.”

  “Even if I were willing to attend your ball, I’m afraid that what you ask is impractical. I cannot authorize the use of the additional hotel space.”

  “Because you need it?”

  “Perhaps. It is being held in reserve, because it is likely it will be needed.”

  “Held in reserve isn’t the same as being needed. We need space now; you need space in the future. What if I were willing to commit to finding you long-term housing space in Chicago’s distressed properties that would be more than adequate for your future needs?”

  “Why not just use that space for the refugees?”

  “Because it isn’t ready yet. But I believe it could be, easily, in time for your needs.”

  “How many floors would you need?”

  “I’m not certain. I estimate fifteen.”

  Perez shook his head. “I’m afraid I am not at liberty to negotiate with the logistical assets of the AGRT. They are not mine to trade, like so many poker chips.”

  “In return,” I said, picking up the tablet again, “I will find this man for you.”

  Perez said nothing. He gave me a long, appraising look. “Forgive me, but did we not just conclude that you would be of little assistance in a search?”

  “No. We just concluded that it would be hard. Possibly very hard. But this guy knows his way around Chicago. And while he’s doing it, he’s avoiding some of the most sophisticated surveillance hardware on the planet.”

  “What does that tell you?”

  “It tells me he has help. Probably help from within your organization. Truthfully, Colonel, I don’t believe I will be of much help in finding this man for you. But I think I could be a great deal of help in finding the person or persons assisting him inside the AGRT. After that, I would think that finding him should be a great deal simpler for you.”

  Perez took the tablet from me. “You believe you can do this.”

  “I do.”

  “How long would it take?”

  “Good Lord. I have no idea. I’m new at the spy business, remember?”

  “It is . . . a matter of some urgency.”

  “All right. Can you get me everything you have so far? Camera feeds, video analysis?”

  Perez considered. “Yes, I believe so.”

  “I’m not so much concerned with him. What I really want to know is how he’s been successful at avoiding detection. Cameras he avoided, drones that didn’t detect him. I want to know how he did it and who had the information he needed to do it.”

  “This is an avenue we are already exploring.”

  “But not very damn well, apparently.”

  I’d hit a nerve. The colonel sat in silence for a moment while I wondered if I’d pushed things too far.

  “We have . . . an understanding,” he said at last.

  “You’ll be our guest of honor?”

  “Yes.”

  Excellent. So much for Step One. Step Two was making the colonel’s commitment as ironclad as possible, in case he felt no need to honor it once I was in custody.

  “You’re certain?” I said. “Because I will be using your name on the invitations. Once I do, it will be awkward for everyone if you back out.”

  “You have my guarantee,” Perez said. “You may use my name on your invitations. I shall not back out.”

  “Fabulous.” I felt a great sense of relief. “I’ll also need the full cooperation of the Venezuelan Civil Commission.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To contact the residents of Chicago. You have complete records of everyone who has returned to the city, yes? Where they live, who they are, what they do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tax records?”

  “I believe so.”

  “I’ll need those records. Or better yet, I’ll need your assistance to select a mailing list of about two thousand. The wealthiest two thousand, ideally. I expect that should be fairly simple for you.”

  “I should think so.”

  “Great, because I need the invitations to go out today.”

  Perez and I finalized the details, and he said he would be in touch regarding “my obligations,” by which I suppose he meant my promise to help track down the American war criminal. He gave me a person to speak to regarding the names I wanted, and then had his lieutenant walk me over to the other side of the floor, where some walls still remained and the desks were a great deal more cramped. The lieutenant introduced me to Sergeant Pica, a middle-aged Venezuelan woman with extremely short hair, and fifteen minutes later I had a data file with 2,146 names and addresses. The wealthiest residents remaining in the city of Chicago.

  I was in the lobby, headed for the business services desk, when I ran into Mac.

  “Good news,” I told her. “Perez has agreed to be our guest of honor.”

  “That’s great,” she said. “But what about freeing up the rooms?”

  “Already done. Perez will speak to Renkain this afternoon.”


  “Oh my God—are you joking? Tell me you’re not joking.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  She squealed with excitement and gave me a hug. “Oh my God, that’s . . . wait. How did you negotiate all that? Barry, what did you tell him?”

  “I made a weird deal,” I admitted. “Very weird. Weird deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “Intelligence-gathering stuff.”

  “Oh my . . . I don’t want to know.”

  “Good, because I probably can’t tell you.”

  “What’s the next step?”

  “You’ve spoken with the refugees outside?”

  “I have,” she said. “They’re surprisingly organized. They’ve been working with the mayor’s office to get emergency food and blankets, and they got the bottom floor of the old jewelry mart on Michigan Avenue opened as a warming center, so no one freezes to death.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Two hundred ninety-seven, not including the fourteen emergency cases Renkain agreed to take in last night.”

  “How many floors do we need to house them?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Damn—nineteen? You sure?”

  “Yes. A lot of the rooms aren’t ready. Renkain wasn’t kidding, Barry . . . When people abandoned the hotel back in December, they really left a mess behind. Even if we work round the clock for the next two days, we’ll never get full occupancy on every floor.”

  “I’ll have to let Perez know we need more space than I thought. We should inspect the rooms personally—”

  “I already have.”

  “Good Lord . . . all nineteen floors?”

  “Yes. I pulled Renkain’s property manager out of bed last night, and we were up until six a.m. this morning.” She pulled out a data slate and brought up a map of the hotel. “We’ve charted all the rooms we think we can have ready in time, and I’ve already started matching rooms to refugee families.”