Ex-KOP

by Warren Hammond

  I ran left, sending a group of teenage opium smokers clambering. I took a couple more steps and had to stop to keep from collapsing. I turned around and fought to keep from vomiting as I aimed at the door. The door flung open and I squeezed off a stream of lase-fire. I tried to keep my left hand steady, but between having to shoot lefty and my wild breathing, the beam wavered all over the damn place. As bad as the aim was, it was still effective enough to force Ian and Hoshi back into the store. The door swung open again, and I squeezed off a sustained burn that fried a path of raindrops out of the air. I stepped backward down the alley, my eyes trained on the door as I began to catch my breath. Again, the door swung open, and I squeezed off another burst that scorched the brick walls with a scribble of black as my aim fluttered hopelessly about.

  I took off for one last fast-paced sprint. My feet kicked up puddle water, splashing the O heads who had plastered themselves against the alley walls to keep from getting in my way. I got back out onto Bangkok Street and slowed down to a walk. Ian wouldn't be far behind, but I decided to try melting into the crowd of dark-haired, brown-skinned Lagartans, most of whom were wearing their cotton whites just like me. I walked as fast as I could without running. My phone rang. I didn't have to look at the display to know it was Ian trying to run a trace that would lock down my position. I dropped it on the street—should've dumped it as soon as I'd started running.

  I kept moving, not looking back. I saw Froelich, one of the hommy boys who had been guarding the fire exit. He was standing tiptoe trying to pick me out of the crowd, but succeeding only in making himself stand out. I avoided him easily by ducking behind a series of street vendors with canvas tarps tied to lampposts that shielded me from his view. I turned left, down one of the side streets. I tried to stay under the tarps as I passed by the vendors' booths—first a florist, then a souvenir hawker, and finally a snail-selling street vendor who tried to entice me by ladling snail juice over a steaming snail pyramid.

  I came out into the open. My back muscles tightened in expectation of lase-fire. I told myself not to look back. The crowds were thinning and looking back would make me easier to pick out. I kept my feet moving at a controlled pace and hit the end of the block. I turned right, the buzz of Bangkok Street falling away behind me.

  seventeen

  NOVEMBER 33, 2788

  I'D spent half the night at the hospital, the other half in my tent, lying awake in my hammock, my head full of racing thoughts. I was surprised that Ian never showed up in the maternity ward. I didn't know if he'd checked in on Niki or not, but if he had, he must've believed that she had indeed checked out. That, or he still thought I didn't care what happened to her. Either way she was safe, at least for now.

  I was worried about Maggie. I'd woken her up when I called her from the hospital and told her she should get out of the house, but she refused, saying she'd be safer staying inside where her alarm system would keep her well protected.

  It was getting noisy outside my tent as I began to hear the early risers clearing their throats of night phlegm, and shortly thereafter came the ring of pots and pans bumping together. Suddenly, there were crying babies and zippering tent flaps all around. Hushed conversations were getting gradually louder as there were fewer and fewer sleepers to be mindful of. I could hear the hollow clangs of gas cans and plastic milk jugs as Tenttowners made their way down to the canal to fill up with filthy water. Dozens of propane stoves came alive, sounding like a chorus of exhaling emphysema patients.

  Three generations of Mozambes had lived this same harsh existence until I said enough and got myself out. My family emigrated from Earth, one family among thousands who set off on the fourteen-year journey to Lagarto at the peak of the brandy boom only to find that the boom had gone bust by the time they landed. With no jobs or homes waiting for them, they were all left to rot here in Tenttown.

  The tent shook. I reflexively grabbed for my piece with the wrong hand. I pawed at it with my splinted fingers once, twice before realizing that I needed to switch hands.

  I heard Maggie's voice. “Juno. Are you in there?”

  “Yeah. Come in.” I rested my piece on my chest and flicked on the battery-powered lantern as Maggie unzipped her way in and looked for a dry place to set her bag, one of those high-priced soft leather suitcases. “You can hang it there,” I said, pointing to a hook on the center post.

  She hoisted it up over her head and hooked it through one of the handles. “Got an extra hammock?”

  “Take your pick.”

  Maggie took a swinging seat. “My partner dropped by last night.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine, just a little shaken up. He started shouting threats through the door. I pretended I wasn't home, which must've made him angry because he started throwing rocks through my windows.”

  I didn't even want to think about what he might have done to my house. “Was he alone?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Did he try to come in through the windows?”

  “If he had, he'd be dead. He must've taken off pretty soon after the alarm went off. I waited until the rent-a-cops arrived and then I snuck out the back.”

  “Did you ditch your phone?”

  She nodded and swung her legs up onto the hammock.

  I had my landlord bring in some food for me to share with my new roomie. Maggie and I hung in our hammocks and forked through our eggs unenthusiastically. I thought I should be mad at Maggie for getting me into this. It had seemed simple enough at the start. All I had to do was talk to the Juarez girl and get a confession. I'd score a little cash, and that would be it. And now I was living in this pit with a bounty on my head. Yes, I should've been mad at Maggie, but I wasn't, not in the slightest. Niki had used up all the anger I had. It was her fault. She was the one who had me scrounging for dough.

  Hours passed before somebody came out of the house. It was the sister. And when she stood under the porch light, we could see she was sporting a fresh black eye. She walked down the block and stepped into a bodega a few doors down, coming back out a couple minutes later with a candy bar. She inhaled it on the way back and stuffed the wrapper in her pocket before going back inside.

  Another hour passed before Raj finally came out. He strutted down the sidewalk, right past the burned-out opium house where Maggie and I were hiding. Maggie and I filed out the door, leaving the stink of O-head piss behind. She and I fell in behind Raj as he crossed the street. We followed ten paces behind, closing the gap as he approached a minialley between a liquor store and a pharmacy. Maggie and I timed our sprinting approach so we would catch him as he passed what we hoped would be a nice place to have a private little chat. He spun around too late, and I had him in my arms, pulling him into the gap between the stores. He flailed his arms, trying to shake loose of my grip. I slammed him into a brick wall, stunning him still.

  Maggie surveyed the alley. “It's clear.”

  I shoved my bandaged forearm under his chin and pinned his neck to the wall. I clamped my free hand over his mouth to cover his calls for help. I started baby-talking him. “Where's your mommy and daddy now? They're not here to protect their little baby boy, are they?” Raj put on a defiant face that I broke through with a little more pressure on his windpipe.

  “Take it easy, Juno,” Maggie said.

  I paid no heed to Maggie and stared deep into his eyes, keeping up the pressure until he turned good and red. I counted to five in my head then loosened up so he wouldn't pass out. Raj started sucking air through his nose so hard that his nostrils almost pinched themselves shut. “I'm going to take my hand off your mouth,” I told him. “You start screaming, and I start squeezing, understand?”

  He nodded his pinned head.

  I took my hand away but kept my forearm under his chin. “You put that shiner on your sister, didn't you?”

  He opened his mouth to talk but couldn't speak. I relaxed my forearm a little more and let him catch more breath. “She's lucky that's all I g
ave her,” he finally wheezed.

  “How did you know she gave us the vid?”

  “She told me. She's so fucking stupid. She stole that vid out of my room and then bragged about it.”

  “What do you say we get back to how you were banging your girlfriend's mother while her father watched?”

  “What about it?” he said in a defeated voice.

  “Tell me about Hector and Margarita, from the beginning.”

  “It was Hector's idea. He came to me months ago. He saw I had a way with the girls, and he started asking me questions about them. Just innocent stuff at the beginning, but then he started asking me about what kinds of things I liked to do with them. That's when he told me he liked to watch. I got all weirded out thinking he wanted me to let him watch me with my girlfriends, but then he explained how he wanted to watch me doing his wife. He told me that if I did it, he'd hire me as a junior reporter after my internship was over.”

  “He offered you a job if you'd have sex with his wife?”

  “That's pretty much it. He asked if I'd be into it, and I thought why the hell not. Rita looked like a nice piece of ass.”

  “How about her? Was she into it?”

  “Not at first. Once Hector got me onboard, he had to talk her into it. It took weeks before we all got together that first night. She was all nervous and shit. But by the time we finished, she was into it. Believe me, she was into it.” He flashed his pearlies.

  “Why were they going to divorce?”

  “That was Rita. She was the one that wanted to divorce. She started seeing me without Hector. I guess she eventually decided she didn't need him anymore. She'd get a hotel room, and I'd come over and bone the shit out of her. That lady was an animal. I'd have to put my dick on ice afterward.” More pearlies.

  “And you were doing all this while you were dating her daughter?”

  Raj grinned even wider. “Yeah. I figured that tight little pussies probably ran in the family.” He leered at Maggie.

  I slapped that look off his face. “Show some respect,” I ordered. “What did her parents think about you dating their daughter?”

  “You think I'm stupid? I kept them in the dark.”

  “And how did you manage that?”

  “I told Adela that if she wanted to see me, she had to keep it secret. I told her that her father didn't like me, and he'd fire me if he found out we were seeing each other.”

  This kid was fucking unbelievable. At nineteen, he was already a master manipulator. “Who killed Hector and Margarita?”

  “Adela did.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “She did. She must've found out about me and her parents, and she went nuts.”

  “You're full of shit, Raj. You expect me to believe that when Adela found out about your little ménage à trois with her parents, she decided to kill them only after sneaking off to hump your sorry ass a couple times?”

  “No. She must've found out that night when she went home. Detective Davies found that same vid my sister gave you loaded up in the home system. My guess is Adela walked in on Hector whacking off to the Raj and Rita show, and then she just lost it.”

  “What's your relationship with Detective Davies?”

  “I barely know him.”

  “You know him well enough to call him and tell him about our visit last night.”

  “I thought he might be able to get that vid back again.”

  “What do you mean by again?”

  “When Detective Davies told me about the vid he found in their home system, I begged him to keep it quiet. I didn't think it would be good for my career if my new boss found out that I was doing the old boss's wife. He gave it to me, but then my sister stole it and gave it to you. I asked him if he could get it back again, or maybe just destroy it.”

  “Why did Detective Davies agree to help you the first time?”

  “What would it hurt? He had his killer already. He knew I was going to be a reporter someday. He said that he'd ask me to return the favor one day.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Maggie. “Are you believing this?”

  She didn't respond, but I could see the uncertainty in her face. If Adela really had killed her parents it, then why would Ian be so sensitive about me talking to her? He broke my fingers, dammit. But there were other possibilities. Maybe he was just worried that I'd find out about his little arrangement with Raj. But that was hardly a big deal. All he did was save the kid some embarrassment by burying the vid. It was the kind of thing cops did every day. But this time, there was a promotion on the line. A black mark in his file, no matter how small, could make the brass favor Maggie over Ian. Or maybe he was just afraid of me digging into his other cases, like the barge murders. Was it possible that Adela did do it? She did confess. And she didn't just say the words and sign the papers. She was believable.

  I had to be sure Raj was telling the truth. I balanced on one foot as I slid my left hand down to my ankle strap and pulled out my blade. “You think the camera loves you, do you?” I powered the blade up. The red blade sizzled into life.

  Maggie was tugging on my shoulder. “That's enough, Juno.”

  I raised the blade's tip to his face. “What will the camera think if I split that little nose of yours in half?”

  Maggie was yelling at me, telling me to stop. The kid was squirming under my grip, but I had him firm. I waved the blade across his face, close enough that he could feel the steam of flash-fried drizzle.

  “I don't believe you,” I hissed.

  “It's true,” he screamed.

  I aimed the tip of the blade at his eye. “Tell me the truth or you'll be doing the news with a glass eye.”

  He was crying now. “I did tell the truth. Please don't … Please!”

  Tears evaporated off his cheek as I moved the tip closer. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I did tell the truth,” he sobbed.

  Maggie was still tugging my shoulder. “That's enough. Stop it,” she said in my ear.

  I dropped the kid, letting him tumble to his knees. I turned off the blade and slid it back into my pocket. Maggie and I walked away, leaving the kid blubbering. We didn't get more than a block before Maggie stopped me. “What the hell was that about?” she asked.

  “I had to be sure he was telling the truth.”

  “This is my investigation, Juno. We're doing this my way, and my way doesn't include burning a kid's eye out.”

  “Relax, I wouldn't have done it,” I lied.

  “We're not going to torture suspects! You hear me?”

  I shook my head and started walking again.

  She grabbed my wrist and yanked me to a stop. “Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you!”

  I turned away. I didn't need a lecture.

  She kept at me. “I'm sick of this bullshit, Juno. One minute you're sitting there behaving yourself and the next you're like some damn psycho. Don't you have any self control?”

  The knot in my stomach clenched. Pent-up rage welled up from my gut. “Dammit, Maggie!” I yelled back almost incoherently. “Ian pinched my wife's air hose shut 'til she turned fucking blue! If I have to carve that pervert's eyes out to get to the truth, I'll do it, and I don't care what you say!”

  Maggie didn't respond. The two of us just stood there fuming at each other, avoiding each other's eyes. We finally started walking again, covering the blocks in silence, the drizzling rain cooling my hot head. My stomach was knotted to the point of cramping. I forced myself to walk upright, stretching my stomach muscles until they stopped seizing. I wondered how long I could live like this. Something had to give, and soon.

  “Did you believe him?” I asked when I finally felt calm enough to talk without raising my voice.

  “Yes.”

  “You think Adela killed her parents?”

  “No. But I think Raj believes she did. Ian probably convinced him. How about you? What do you think?”

  “The same.”

  We stopped at a ca
fé, and I used the owner's phone to call Vlad. Still no sign of Ian. Then I called up to the Orbital and downloaded our now decrypted vid files. Maggie paid the café's owner to let us go upstairs and use their home vid system.

  I settled on the sofa, a foam futon with a cheap faux-brass frame that was splotched with patches of faded metal. Maggie sat next to me after having tried the armchair, which was so mildewed it had made her sneeze. Once Maggie finished backing up the files to her home system, she started the first vid.

  The room shifted. Gone were the crucifixes and the glittery Virgin Mary display. Gone were the family photos and the ratty furniture. Suddenly we were sitting in an overwhelmingly pink bedroom. It was so pink, it felt like one of Niki's corner-store romance novels had exploded in here. There were red scarves draped over the lamps and sweetheart pillows stacked high on pink satin sheets. Two white vases filled with red roses stood at the foot of the bed. The vases were so large that they were gaudy by definition. Noticing the small round windows, I realized it wasn't a bedroom at all, but a cabin on a boat, a nice boat.

  Liz came in, stark naked. I remembered the label Yuri had put on the vid disc I'd copied, “Liz—Complete Works.” She stepped in front of the camera and smiled shyly. The vid froze on her smiling face, and the words Liz Lagarto popped in over her head.

  Maggie shook her head. “Christ. I don't think I can take any more porn.”

  I felt empty with the realization that Liz was a porn star, with a tacky name to boot. I didn't know what my feelings for her were, but I was already feeling jealous of the men I'd soon be seeing. She was masturbating now, vibrating her way around the bed.

  “Mind if I speed this up?” Maggie asked.

  “Please,” I responded, hoping she couldn't see the bulge in my pants.

  Maggie set the vid to 4X, and we watched Ian's girlfriend get off at quadruple speed. Un-fucking-believable. I hit my flask hard, wanting to soothe the knot in my stomach that was now screaming at me, telling me how bad I'd screwed everything up. I was back to living in Tenttown. I was being hunted by Ian and his gang of dirty cops. I was watching porn with a woman I thought of as a daughter. I was spending money I didn't have in an effort to keep my suicidal wife alive. And now I had the hots for Ian's girlfriend, a porn star for chrissakes. I felt miserable as I watched Liz Lagarto in what was now a quad-speed four-way, my pants getting more and more uncomfortable with every passing second.