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Deadrock

Page 3

by Jill Sardegna


  Max rose to greet the big lug and was immediately engulfed in his embrace. Former "guest " and trustee kitchen help at Tunkhannock State Prison, Mr. Louis was Grandma's chef, butler, and bodyguard. He had also served as Max's playmate growing up, instructing him on the mysteries of breaking and entering, cracking a safe, and cooking the perfect soufflé. He had the profile of a punch–worn boxer and the smile of a cherub. Since his dad died, Grandma and Mr. Louis had been odd, but effective, surrogate parents to Max.

  "Don't be too hard on him, Mr. Louis," said Grandma. "He's a working man, you know. Very little time for pleasantries."

  "We're so prouda you, Maxie! Say, can I fix you a plate of something? How's about some of those roll-up hors d'oeuvres you used to like so much?

  "Not Penitentiary Pinwheels?" said Max.

  "You remembered! I'll bring some in a jiffy!" Mr. Louis lumbered out the door, leaving Max to try and regain his momentum.

  "As I was saying, Grandma, this guy I'm being paired with is a lunatic. He's got a gambling record, too. We're assigned to this meaningless Watcher together and if he messes up he could even change history!"

  Grandma narrowed her eyes. "I can't imagine Chief Madison assigning someone who'd be such a security risk."

  "Well, the Chief thinks he's reformed but I know for a fact he hasn't."

  Grandma leaned forward. "And how do you know, for a fact?"

  "Because I saw him with my VSc- uh, I have my sources, Grandma. I am a cop, you know." Max reddened and hoped Grandma hadn't caught the part about the VisionScope.

  Grandma leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Well, it just so happens I have my own sources, Max, dear. And they tell me you've been assigned to a nice, safe Watcher to try to unravel this mystery of the Mayor's. It sounds a lot better to me than having you going undercover to meet with Blasto dealers."

  "Oh, Grandma! That drug sting will be perfectly safe!" He jammed his hands in his pockets and paced before the fireplace. "Besides, if I have to take this Watcher I could lose my promotion."

  Grandma calmly repinned a few stray silver strands of hair back into the sleek chignon at the back of her long neck.

  "So I was wondering if you might be able to pull a few strings. Grandma, are you listening to me?"

  Grandma fingered the assortment of torture devices that lay next to her WriteUp. She closed her eyes for a moment, then let them wander to the photos hanging on the dark paneled wall. In each, she posed with famous felons or heinous murderers, and in one, she autographed a virtual book jacket for a forcecuffed man entering the Atom Eliminator Chamber.

  "See that one?" she said, pointing to the doomed man in the picture. "Roy Dwayne Blanding, the Cincinnati Slasher. Only killed the cruelest elements in society. More than a few editors in the bunch, I can tell you. I hated to see him put away. I think your granddad did, too."

  "Grandma, about this Watcher case, do you think-"

  "There were lots of things Max Senior hated about his job. Said it went with the responsibility, though," she said.

  "Maybe you could call some of your friends in the department. Have somebody else assigned."

  "Responsibility…I always worried that you were too young to handle the unpleasant parts of being a cop. That you were too used to getting your own way. I guess that's my fault. I never liked saying no to you," she said.

  "Then you'll do it?" asked Max.

  "Nope. Not this time, dear."

  "Why not? Grandma, I've only got a few days to win this promotion!"

  "You've got eons of time to win this promotion and many more. Why, in the normal life span of 135 years, that leaves you with at least 121 years to make lieutenant!" she said.

  "Not funny, Grandma."

  "I'm sorry, Max," she said. "But you want it both ways. You want to live and work like an adult but you don't want the disagreeable parts of adulthood."

  "But a Watcher is meaningless! It requires no brains at all!"

  "Just my point! A good cop needs more than just a superior brain, Max. He needs instinct, timing, experience. And a willingness to follow orders." She rose and took him in a begrudged hug.

  "Look at it as a sort of mental vacation. A Club Med lobotomy, if you will," she said.

  "You're just full of jokes, today," said Max, finally allowing himself to be comforted.

  "I'm a regular Joan Rivers," she said.

  "Who?"

  "Never mind. Before your time," she said.

  Max kissed her cheek and headed for the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he decided to give it one more shot. "I just hope my crazy partner doesn't get me shot. You probably couldn't live with the guilt," he said.

  "Oh, nice try," she chuckled. "But I guess I'll take my chances seeing as this is just a Watcher."

  She walked him down the long, cork-lined hall where Mr. Louis joined them with a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

  "Farewell forever, Mr. Louis!" Max said dramatically.

  "Hey, Maxie, take a snack with you. I call it Take the Rap Rumaki!"

  Chapter 5

  Max and John Look-For-A-Bird barely had time to meet before they were ushered through the arched entry of the Holoround Theatre. The mammoth theatre swallowed up the hundreds of police officers assigned to Watchers like a whale skimming plankton. The building had once been a popular sports arena before the current government banned all competitive play.

  A Guide led Max and Bird to one of hundreds of treadmills built into the floor.

  "Welcome to the Holoround Theatre," said the Green Robe Leader speaking from a podium. His voice bounced and echoed off the walls of the immense room.

  "He's speaking too close to the ExplodeMic," whispered Bird to Max. "Pretty soon he's going to get some loud-"

  EEEEEEEEhhhhh!

  "Feedback!" said Bird.

  The crowd covered its ears and groaned at the fading, wailing wall of sound.

  "What'd I tell you?" laughed Bird.

  "Sssshhh," said Max.

  "My apologies," said the Green Robe Leader in softer tones. "Here, through the wonder of holopods, we will simulate typical experiences you may encounter in your Watcher cases. If you will just step onto a treadmill, we can begin."

  A Guide led them to their tandem treadmill. Bird's moccasins caught on the edge and Max grabbed his arm just in time to keep him from falling. A million cops in the New York City Police Department and I've got to get the King of Klutz, thought Max. This is going to be one fun assignment.

  "We fervently believe that all crimes must be solved. But as time travelers, we must keep the Policy of Non-Involvement utmost in our consciousness," said the Green Robe Leader.

  The lights dimmed, the room flickered with blue light and the walls seemed to disappear. Max had to fight the urge to "ooh" or ahhh" with the responding crowd. He didn't want to seem like an immature little kid.

  "Oooohh, I just love this part!" said Bird.

  Max scowled and motioned to him to grab hold of the handrails. They began moving forward on the treadmill at a steady pace.

  The room lit suddenly to reveal a scene just four feet from each treadmill. A holobotic troopernaut stepped cautiously into an alien ship. Her weapon out and ready, she looked right, left, but not down – where the banana peel lay in her path. Bird reached out to warn her but was instantly restrained by their Guide.

  "Remember that life flows according to its own plan and within its own purpose," said the Green Robe Leader.

  The troopernaut slipped and fell to the floor as laser fire crackled just over her head. She rolled to cover, spied the enemy, shot, and hit him. Bird applauded enthusiastically along with the rest of the crowd and the scene faded and disappeared. Max tugged at Bird's arm to alert him to the start of another scene.

  The room lit to Venice in the sixteenth century. A rich merchant strolled along the canal, counting his money and unknowingly dropped a gold ducat. In a moment of forgetfulness, Max bent down to retrieve the coin. The Guide gave him a warning glanc
e and Max froze in place, then slowly, nonchalantly, straightened up. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked to see if Bird had noticed. No problem, Bird was completely intrigued with the drama.

  "You must never interfere," said the Green Robe Leader to the crowd. "For truly, one man's loss is another man's gain."

  A penniless monk wandered onto the Venetian path and found the coin. He jumped for joy, crossed himself, and ran into a building marked, ORPHANAGE. Bird smiled and bobbed his head at the justice of this.

  The canals faded away and the room lightened, placing the two detectives in the steamy, lush greenery of Paradise. Bird stretched up to pick an apple off a tree but Max caught him mid-reach. The Guide nodded approvingly.

  "Any act you make," said the Green Robe Leader, "may have a permanent effect on all eternity!"

  From behind a veil of flowering vines, Eve appeared. She plucked the apple from the tree, and handed it to Adam, who stepped out from the shrubbery. Bird shrugged at Max and saluted the fading First Family.

  The next morning, Max tapped his foot impatiently and waited for Bird outside the Time Passage Room. Trust this guy to be late, he thought. On the other hand, if he's really late, maybe they'll let me go alone. He closed his eyes and wished, Oh, please, Bird BE LATE! Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes again, he saw the tall detective ambling toward him.

  "Is that what you're going to wear?" Max said to him.

  "Sure, what's wrong with this?" said Bird. He dusted the knees of his jeans and smoothed the wrinkles of his plain white shirt. At least the shirt has buttons, thought Max. It would be hard to explain InvisiSeams in the twenty-first century.

  "Well, it's too late to change now," said Max. "Maybe we can get you something to wear when we get there."

  Here we're supposed to blend right into the early 2000s and this guy's going to stand out like a red dress at a funeral, thought Max, tugging at the waistband of his striped hiphugger pants. I don't mind the bellbottoms so much but this low-slung waist is going to drive me crazy. How inconspicuous will I be with my pants down around my ankles? He gave Bird a second look. Not as noticeable as this guy, he thought. What made him think he could get away with those moccasins?

  "At least borrow some of my beads," Max said and offered Bird a strand with a peace sign attached.

  "Groovy," said Bird.

  "That's it," said Max, somewhat relieved. "I'm glad you did some linguistic research, anyway."

  The two entered the Time Passage Room, passed through a tunnel of plastic detector, and waited on the platform by the transporter tubes. Chief Madison waved at them from behind the clear wall of the control chamber. She pushed a button and talked to them over the intercom.

  "We've got the date narrowed down, Max, but we can't be sure it's the exact day the murder took place," said the Chief. "You'll just have to find the time capsule and wait it out."

  "Not too long, I hope. The Spinelli deal won't wait forever," said Max.

  "Oh, we'll have fun, Max," said Bird. "I always like to take a tour when I get to a new city. You know, we could see the Statue of Liberty before they shrink-wrapped her, and Radio City Gallium Hall, and…"

  Max gave the Chief a pained "Why Me?" look.

  The Chief smiled. "You two just get the job done as soon as possible. Try to establish some kind of cover so you can watch the action. And don't forget the Policy of Non-Involvement – you don't want to change events."

  "You were going to remind him about the gambling," Max prompted the Chief.

  "Right. Bird, remember, you're still on probation so no gambling of any kind," she said.

  "A closed chapter in my life, Chief," said Bird.

  "Ready for passage!" called the pilot.

  Bird and Max grabbed their gear and each stepped into a clear, rhinoleum tube. The doors slid shut, locked and sealed with a clang. Max's breath began to condense in the tube and he felt a sudden stab of claustrophobia. He looked through the misting rhinoleum over at Bird, whose large frame crammed his cylinder and left barely a quarter of an inch of space above his head.

  A kelp hot dog in a casing, thought Max.

  Bird tried to raise an arm to wave at him, but had to settle for a smile and a wink.

  "Keep your arms next to your body and remain as still as possible during passage," said the pilot, activating the controls. "Passage to New York City circa July 2015 should take place in two minutes, forty-three seconds. Ready…transport!"

  Max closed his eyes and felt his molecules bubble and dance. For all his feigned outward indifference, inwardly, Max awaited the experience of time passage with delighted expectation. He never got over the liberating, exhilarating sensation of becoming one with time and the universe. As he entered the downward spiral that would draw him into the wheel of time, the last thing he heard was Bird's voice.

  "I'll give you five to one odds, Max, that we make it in two minutes and forty-FOUR seconds!"

  Chapter 6

  Planetary Earth Date: 13.7.2015

  Max felt the tingling of his skin start to fade and waited for the ringing in his ears to stop. But it wouldn't. He waited in the dark alley and watched Bird's shape appear and gradually fizz and bubble into solid feet, then legs, then torso, and finally, head.

  "Hey, great flight, eh, Max?" he said.

  "Yeah, but I think something went wrong with my hearing. I can't get the noise to stop," said Max, hitting his ear with his flattened palm.

  "You can't stop it! That's just twenty-first century civilization you hear!" shouted Bird.

  The two peeked cautiously around the corner of the alley at the bustle of people, cars, trucks and buses.

  "Gnartz, how do they stand it? I'll never complain about national noise restrictions again!" yelled Max, poking a finger in the other ear.

  "Could be worse, Max. I heard about a guy who was transported to Planet Gerber and somehow when he landed, he got one hand stuck inside the wall of a building! They had to try to de-meld him and - hey, where are you going?"

  "To find the time capsule," said Max. "C'mon!"

  As Max and Bird tried to make their way down the crowded street they continually bumped and jostled people on all sides. Bird sideswiped an angry man who cursed at him even as he hurried away.

  "Well, that wasn't very polite, was it?" said Bird. "Interesting turn of phrase, though. I guess mothers have a special place in this society if they rate their own swear word!"

  Max tugged on his arm and saved him from colliding with a woman rolling a cart of open broccoli boxes.

  "Pay attention, Bird. You have to try to find the flow of traffic and move with it," said Max. He reeled around a slow-moving man with a walker.

  "Nice moves, Max! I'll follow your lead!" With that, he took hold of Max's shirttail and happily trailed a half-step behind him for three blocks. Max stopped suddenly and Bird crashed into his back.

  "Are we there, yet?" asked Bird.

  "I think so," whispered Max. He mentally consulted the city map that had been hastily programmed into his infochips. The two hesitated beneath the striped awning of a high-rise apartment building and met the glare of the building doorman.

  "May I help you, gentlemen?" he asked somberly.

  "How kind," said Bird. "Yes, we're looking for the Rho-"

  Max jumped in front of the big man and cut him off. "No thank you, we're here to visit, uh…" He pulled Bird into the foyer and took a quick glance at the registry and pushed the elevator button. "Mrs. Turner, fourth floor. I'm her grandson," he called back to the suspicious doorman and ducked into the elevator.

  "Mrs. Turner?" asked Bird as soon as the door closed. "I thought we were looking for Ted Rhoades."

  The elevator reached the second floor, Max pushed the stop button, and Bird had to step lively to follow him out.

  "I thought we were going to the fourth floor!" Bird said, loping to keep up with Max, who ran into the stairwell.

  "Mrs. Turner was our excuse to get into the building!" said Max, hopping up
the stairs. He began to lose wind by the time they reached the landing of the fifth floor so he stopped to catch his breath. "When the doorman calls and she tells him I'm not her grandson, he's going to come looking for us. On the elevator," he explained to Bird.

  "Say, pretty fancy footwork, Max. I'm glad my partner's clever."

  "Yeah, well, just remember who's in charge here, okay, Bird? You almost ruined everything by telling the doorman we're looking for Ted Rhoades. Who, by the way, is on the eighth floor."

  "Sorry, Max. It's just that I've always believed that honesty is the best policy," said Bird, resuming the climb, two steps at a time.

  "Ha! That's a laugh! With your record?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about. Once you get to know me better, you'll see that I'm completely trustworthy," said Bird.

  Max decided to let the remark pass since they'd reached the eighth floor. He peered through the glass window of the stairwell door.

  "It's that apartment – number seven," he said, pointing to the door opposite the elevator.

  Just then, the door to number seven opened and a tall, slim girl dressed in black slacks, a tank top, and a pinstriped suit jacket came out.

  "Quick!" said Max to Bird. The two sprang from the stairwell, hid behind the hallway corner and peeked around the corner to watch the girl.

  As she waited at the elevator, the girl perched her briefcase on her knee and fumbled through it until she brought out a copy of a magazine titled, Lucky. She turned to a dog-eared page, studied it, then studied her own reflection in the shiny metal doors. She smoothed her long red hair, pulled at the hem of her jacket and stood ramrod straight. After a second survey she shook her head and slumped.

  "Who's that? His wife?" whispered Bird.

  "She looks pretty young," said Max.

  The apartment door opened again and this time a disheveled man in his early forties came out. He mumbled to himself as he closed the door and went to stand by the girl.

  "That must be Ted," said Max.

 

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