by Matt Doyle
“And that’s bad news because…?”
“I could only get you signed off as an entry-level officer.”
I smile and shake my head. “Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s the good news? Do I get a bonus for getting smacked in the face by a lunatic nurse dressed as a vampire?”
“Of a sort,” Hoove says, opening the door to the rear car lot. “I did some digging of my own. Your driver’s licence is still in date.”
“Yeah. I just can’t afford to buy a car or keep up with the insurance payments.”
“You ever hear of a PDD?”
“Sure. PD Discount. Perks of the job, eh?”
“Well, they apply to all sorts of stuff. Okay, look, I’ll be honest with you here. The pay you’re getting for this is shitty. Between that, their decision on the case, and the way they had me force you into this…the higher-ups deserve a couple of jabs being sent their way.”
“What did you do?” I ask, slowly. I’m nervous now, but somehow, I can’t stop smiling.
Hoove leads me over to what looks like an old Ford squad car. It’s not the current model by a few years, but I do recognise it as once being the standard. “As you can see, the flashing lights are gone. This one used to have cage bars separating the front and back seats too. The all-red spray job was so that it could be used during an undercover job. It was decommissioned last week. I bought it this morning.”
I think I can see where this is going, but I can’t help but throw out a sarcastic question. “Sentimental reasons?”
Hoove snorts. “Not quite. I bought it cheap, filled her up, and transferred the paperwork to your name.”
I smile because I’m genuinely touched by the gesture. “Thanks, but what about insurance?”
“Until you submit your final report, you’re covered by the perks of the PDD system. And before you say you still can’t afford it, we all chipped in and paid up a two-year premium for you already. When that’s up, we’ll sign you on to a minor case and you can get the discount again yourself. And when it comes to fuel, if it gets too pricey, let me, Devereaux, O’Brien or Hanson know, and you can use our discount. Just don’t overdo it.”
For once, I’m almost speechless. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
I feel a slap on my shoulder, and Lieutenant Hanson walks into view. “I told ya before. You’re one of us, Cassie. I tell you what, if you want to thank us, you can use up some of that free fuel and take us all out to a bar after we finish the reports. No drinking for you, of course, but the rest of us could do with one, I think.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, but I’m only half listening. I’m too busy staring in through the window of the car. My car.
Chapter Nine
WE PICKED A little bar at the end of the road. The PD frequents it after big cases. It’s a good choice, as it means I won’t need to drive the car anywhere but home. That still means no drinking, but given how stiff my jaw feels, I’d rather have something warm anyway; the kick of alcohol is good for some things, but nothing beats a cosy hot drink when it comes to comforting you.
“You do Black Forest hot chocolates?”
The bartender nods in a disinterested way and confirms, “Yeah. That what you want?”
“Obviously,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
“I’ll get on it.” He looks over my shoulder and asks, “The usual?”
“Aye.” Donal waits until the bartender has moved on to work on the drinks and says, “Hanson found a table big enough for the five of us.”
“Not taken?”
“Not anymore,” he says with a grin.
“I lied.”
“Figured ya had. What did Nurse Bridges say to ya?”
“Tell Casille that I’ll see him soon. That was the exact message.”
“I’ll pass it on,” he says, then turns back to the bar and says, “Cheers, Jack.”
I grab the cherry from the top of my drink and pop it in my mouth before picking up the mug with both hands. The gentle aroma wafts up to my nose, and I can’t help but smile as the warmth of the mug washes over me.
“Odd choice of drink,” Donal says.
I chuckle. “My dad was a cop back in Vancouver. Whenever he finished a difficult case, he’d take me and my mom out as an apology for how long he’d had to work. I don’t know why, but he always bought me one of these, even when I got older. They were good evenings, though. Full of laughter.”
“Ah, so you got kinda conditioned to buy one whenever you got done with a tough one.”
“Not really, no. It’s just…close to the anniversary. Anyway, where’s this table?”
I really don’t want to think about that day too much right now. Soon enough, I’ll have the whole day to focus on it. And all the things that come with it. Thankfully, Donal doesn’t push me any further. He just leads the way to the back of the bar, where we find Captain Hoover face down on the table, slamming his fist against the wood in time with his laughter.
“What in the hell did we miss?” I ask, pulling a chair out for myself.
Hoove clears his throat and composes himself. “Well, Corporal Devereaux here was conversing with us about the severity of his wounds.”
“He insinuated that I was fussing,” Hanson adds. “So, I’ve been showing him the alternative. Poke.”
The moment Hanson jabs her finger into Devereaux’s bandaged arm, he lets out a high-pitched squeak that definitely shouldn’t come out of a human. Which sets Hoove off again.
“Never knew ya could sing falsetto,” Donal says.
“For fuck’s sake,” Deveraux responds, grabbing his pint and raising it to his mouth.
Hanson waits until Devereaux has a good mouthful, then puts her arm around him and pulls him close, causing him to spit half the drink back into the glass. “You know I only do it ’cause I care.”
“Just another fly in Suzy’s web,” he grumbles. “That’s how I’m gonna end up.”
I smile. Black Forest hot chocolate and laughter. Just like old times, eh Dad?
MORNING SNUCK BY while I was asleep, and I finally manage to rise from bed shortly after one. According to the internet, alcohol has been the best way to get sleep since the early 2000s. Turns out less alcohol and more fun works better for me. The internet was wrong. Who’d a thunk it?
By the time I’ve showered and dressed, the press conference Captain Hoover is hosting is already in full swing. Just like he said, he’s toeing the official line on the case. I can tell he’s still not happy about it long before he finally declares New Hopeland City crime levels to be back to normal.
“Hey Bert, what…?” I shake my head. “Still in for repairs. Guess I’ll do some tidying then.”
I proceed to tidy the milk, instant coffee, and boiling water into an oversized mug, then sit down on the couch and turn the TV over onto one of the music channels. Today’s live concert features one of the New Wave of American Pop Punk bands that have been all over the place lately. It’s not bad, but they all sound pretty much the same to me. I guess that’s the point with the popular acts, though; find the formula and don’t lose it.
Feeling slightly lazy, I reach out to the coffee table in front of me and tap the voice command button on my tablet, which I had pre-tidied under a neat pile of scattered papers from the “currently working” drawer in my bedroom. The room speakers spring into life instantly. “Good afternoon, Cassandra. How may I be of assistance?”
“Computer, open server six, primary folder case files, subfolder Orlok. Remove all synchronisation settings.”
“Synchronisation settings removed.”
“Move folder Orlok using settings Closed Cases, and open folder once complete.”
“Please wait… Operation complete.”
“Rename subfolder personal notes to Tanner, spelling T-A-N-N-E-R, and move to server six, primary folder case files. Open folder when complete.”
“Please wait… Operation complete.”
“Open file notes. Activate dictation.”
<
br /> “Dictation activated, please confirm text.”
I take a mouthful of coffee and place the mug down on the coffee table with a satisfyingly full sounding thud.
“I feel like the waters are beginning to get muddied. During the Malcolm Castleford case, Devin told me there were rumblings in the underground, and I accepted that they related to Castleford and his attempt to usurp the Four Kings of Utah, but now I’m not so sure. It doesn’t make sense because Castleford was too easy to deal with. When you consider his involvement in the LV case too, it’s clear that Castleford was as much a pawn as I was.
“When I interviewed Joe Farrah, he said things happened so quickly he wasn’t prepared. That comment, combined with both Castleford’s involvement and the public challenges made by Angel Tanner, makes me certain this was all down to Fuerza. He used the Kings to goad Tanner into attacking but wasn’t ready for how she did it. What worries me is this could be driven by revenge. Fuerza seemed willing to work with Pauline Welch despite knowing she had been convicted of killing his father. The photos of them together indicate they were close before the murder, so maybe he believes the same as the conspiracy sites do?
“Anabelle Bridges’ message is also worrying. Tell Casille that I’ll see him soon. She and Sanderson targeted the King’s Guard and they appear to know that Casille di Franco is in the city and involved with the Kings. Or Anabelle does at least. I can’t be certain given the situation with her, but every part of me is screaming that she’s Angel Tanner. I just can’t prove it yet. Whether this is the case or not, this is far bigger than I’d like.
“After I met with Fuerza and came to this agreement of ours, Devin told me there was more going on. He knew I’d want to dig deeper, but I think he hoped that confirming there is more to things would satisfy me, at least for a while. The problem now is that I know I’m going to be drawn into this whether I dig or not, because the LVs think I’m a part of the King’s Guard.
“At this point, I’m not even sure what the King’s Guard is anymore. Donal said he didn’t take his job to work under a criminal, but that’s the way the chips fell for him. I can’t believe he or anyone else would take on employment from Fuerza, the Kings, or anyone else in the New Hopeland Underground without knowing their employers were criminals. That means there’s only one logical conclusion.
“Allen Fuerza is not the top of the food chain in this situation. If that’s the case, then how high does the system running the New Hopeland Underground go? Who is really in charge?”
I pause and take another drink, considering whether there’s anything more to say yet. Finally, I say, “Do I let myself be taken along for the ride in a state of ignorance, or do I push this? End dictation and save.”
“File saved.”
IT TAKES A little while for the various Tech Shifters to file out of the Forster Street Community Hall. It doesn’t look as if there are as many present as the last time I was here, but that’s not really a surprise; numbers tend to fluctuate for Lori’s meet-ups. Real life can get in the way of the fun sometimes. Those who are here are friendly enough, though. A couple of familiar faces give me a wave of a greeting as they pass, already out of their gear and ready to hop back in their cars and head home.
Looking around, I don’t see Jane and Murphy’s car anywhere, so I guess they couldn’t make it tonight. Thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Murphy without his TS gear on, so as it stands, he remains a metallic Alsatian in my mind. His partner, Jane, on the other hand is not a Tech Shifter, but rather someone who’s happy to indulge her husband’s interests. I didn’t exactly get off to a good start with her in a social sense, way back when I was working Lori’s case. Now, though? She’s still closer to Lori, but we get along fine. In that respect, it’s a shame she’s not here. Speaking with her first might actually have calmed my nerves a little.
Lori exits the building in her black panther suit, which means that until she gets home, she’s Ink. With the lack of Jane to give her a ride home and open her front door for her, she seems to have adopted another familiar face—not to mention another former client of mine—as her ride home. With his TS gear tucked neatly into an oversized sports bag, Tobias Martin locks the door to the Community Hall and starts leading Lori towards his car.
They walk right past me. Even though I’m standing outside by my new awesome ride. I guess it is unusual to see me with a car. Let’s try a different approach.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” I say, keeping my voice light, as if I was talking to a real cat. I find that works well as, though Ink is a panther, when she’s in her headspace, Lori is very much like a playful house cat.
Tobias stops and turns, his shoulder slightly tense, meaning he’s obviously expecting some trouble. Ink, on the other hand, recognises my voice immediately and bounds up to me with a quizzical look in her eyes.
“Caz?” Tobias asks, realisation dawning. “What’s this? I didn’t think you drove?”
I shrug and give him a smile. “I’m still getting back into the swing of it, but yeah, I do drive, I just didn’t own a car. As of yesterday, this one’s mine.” I drop to one knee and give Ink a fuss, scratching under her ears. Well, rubbing hard anyway. You need to push a little harder than you would with a real cat due to the metal exoskeleton, but the effect is the same. Which means Lori is now purring happily. “Now I’m off the clock again, I thought I’d stop by and pick up Ink. If that’s okay, of course.”
Ink responds with a playful hop-step and comes to a stop at my side. She sits cat style with her tail swishing. Tobias smiles and reaches into his pocket for Lori’s door keys, and hands them over. “S’all good with me. Well, I’ll leave you two to your evening. Catch you at the next one, Ink.”
We both watch Tobias make his way to his car, and I give him a friendly wave as he passes. Once we’re alone, I open the rear door and hold my arm out to welcome Ink. She climbs up and rests into the seats. I shut the door, get back in the driver’s seat, and start us on our short journey up the road. “The PD higher-ups screwed me on my pay for working with them,” I explain. “Hoove and the others felt bad about it, so they got me this beauty. It’s a decommissioned old police car they were using for undercover stuff. Get this, they even paid up two years of insurance for me. Turns out that PD discounts get you 75 percent off with the local firms. Pretty good, eh? I still need to get a parking permit for outside my apartment, but Mr. Thorne sorted out a temp one to use until the full one clears with the building owners.”
We pull up outside Lori’s bungalow, and I continue, “I thought about coming along to the meet, but I decided to wait and pick you up. I kinda wanted to do all this with just the two of us.”
I unlock the door and Ink sidles in past me. Once the door is shut again, I follow her along the hall and into the main living room. Ink moves to the middle of the room and hunkers down, getting ready to take off the suit and return to being Lori.
“Wait,” I say. “I think…I mean, I’d like to say all this to Ink. Unless you want to come out of the gear. If you’re tired or anything, that’s fine.”
Ink watches me for a moment and decides not to risk leaving it long enough for me to lose my nerve. Instead, she pads over to the couch and waits for me to take up my usual position. Once I’m seated, she hops up and stretches out so that she’s resting over my lap. I’m glad the public suits are a little bit more lightweight than the enforcement ones, or this would be uncomfortable. “You know,” Lori says from within Ink’s mask. “If you want to talk to me, I have to come out of the headspace a little. Cats aren’t exactly great conversationalists.”
I laugh and give her a stroke. “That’s fine. It just felt right, is all. You really can change if you want to.”
“No, no. It’s nice to see you embracing it a little more.”
I smile. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. I told you before that I found the whole Tech Shifting thing a little difficult to deal with at times because of the TS Murder Fi
les, right? The thing is, a lot of stuff’s happened over the last few days to make me really think about it all. You remember I said I was working with Donal O’Brien? Well, when I first saw him in his TS gear, I didn’t get the same anxiousness as normal. It was weird, because the Murder Files all related to hybrid suits, so if anything was going to set me off, it should have been that.
“It took me a while to figure it out. It’s because he’s a cop. We were paired up in a work capacity, so I was able to create that differentiation. He’s one of the good guys, so he’s not scary in the same way. I sometimes find that harder with you. Shit. No, that didn’t come out right.”
Lori giggles, and prompts, “Continue. Maybe you’ll find a ladder out of the hole.”
“The TS Murder Files perps were all civilians, not cops. Even knowing about all the screening that goes on now… I think there was still something in the back of my mind that made the connection without meaning to. The thing is, I learned something about Tech Shifters during this case. Enforcement grade TS gear is a lot different to the public sets. It’s bulkier, and it has a bunch of other features. Like… You know the hydraulic system that stops the legs from collapsing? Enforcement grade suits have smaller versions in the jaws and their hands. It means when they clamp down on something, they don’t let go easily. And the teeth and claws, they’re different too. They’re a little bigger and a lot sharper.
“My point is they’re built to do damage. Public suits aren’t. That’s what really hammered it home for me. The TS Murder Files.” I shake my head. “For someone to be able to do that in a public suit, they must have really been trying. They wanted to hurt people. I don’t feel that with anyone at the meets. But, even if I’m missing something with someone else there, I know one thing for certain. You never want to hurt me. And if you never want to hurt me, that means Ink never wants to hurt me. So…why be nervous?”
Lori giggles again. “You know, I can do far worse things than hurt you.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”