One example had a primary message that read “You are strong enough to overcome this. Don’t lose who you are.” The obscured message at the bottom read “You know you are weak. There is no stopping progress. You will be destroyed.”
Max jumped when there came a knock on his office door. “Come in.”
It was Daryl. “Hi, Max. I came right over after your call.” Max extended a hand to an empty seat. Daryl took it. “You were able to recover some of my e-mails, huh?”
“I was, or at least Richie O’Connor was, at any rate. He discovered a new issue, however.”
Daryl looked genuinely concerned. “What? Did he figure out what those jumbles of words meant?”
“We’re still working on that. It’s the source of the e-mails that’s the problem.”
Daryl leaned forward. “You know who sent them? That’s great!”
“Not exactly, kid. It was you that sent them.”
“That’s not possible!” Daryl struck the arm of his chair. “This O’Connor’s got to be wrong!”
“Now just calm down, kid. I think there’s more going on here than any of us realize. That said, the evidence is incontrovertible. The account was created shortly before the first e-mail was sent, and the registration is traceable back to the address you have listed.
Daryl stared at Max’s desk. He was shaking. “Not possible. It’s not… Why would I do this?” His eyes met Max’s.
“That’s what I want to find out. I don’t know what’s going on, Daryl, but I still think this SomniCorp might have a hand in it. Now I want to get a search warrant so that I can have your files with them analyzed, but first…”
Max sighed deeply. “I’m going to have to ask you to sit down for an interview with a psychologist.”
“You want me to what!” Daryl started trembling.
“Listen, kid. I know that the suggestion to get your head checked was all you were offered the last time you were here. This is different.”
Daryl grew a crazed look in his eyes. “Oh? Different how? Is it somehow better because it’s a detective calling me crazy instead of some dick in a blue suit?” He shot to his feet. “I don’t need this shit.”
“Sit down!” Max stared daggers. Daryl froze, looking bewildered and torn. He jerkily sat back down again. “You listen and you listen good. I’m doing everything in my power to help you.
“Now I understand how painful it must be to keep hearing you need a shrink, but it’s the only way I can get that warrant. I need that psychologist to testify that she sees a reasonable chance that SomniCorp could have scrambled your brain. I know it’s hard, but I need you to play ball with me, kid.”
Daryl’s face was buried in his hands. He pressed them into his eyes and rubbed. “I don’t understand why everyone is just assuming I’m crazy.”
“Nobody is assuming anything, Daryl. This is all procedural, a means to an end. Right now, it’s nothing more than that.”
Daryl slowly looked up at Max. “Right now… It still sounds like you’re expecting me to be nuts. I just want someone to believe me.”
Max leaned forward. “If I didn’t believe at least some of what you’ve said, you wouldn’t be sitting in this office. If you want answers, this is where it’s going to start.”
“If this will help make me better… I guess I’ll do it.”
“I can’t say for sure it will make you better, but I think it will help get you answers. It’s a start.”
Daryl nodded. “Okay. What do I need to do?”
Max handed Daryl a business card. “The gal on the card is Linda Baughman. She specializes in PTSD and repressed memories. You can guess why I chose her for you. You have an appointment with her tomorrow morning at ten. Good?”
Daryl studied the card. “Yeah, alright…”
“Good… You haven’t had any more perceived threats or anything since we last spoke, have you?” Daryl continued to stare at the card, unblinking. “Kid?”
Daryl snapped his head up. “What? Oh! I’m sorry. No. Nothing.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay, Daryl?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’m just tired, stressed out.”
“Right… That’s all I needed. I’m going to show these e-mails to a friend of mine downtown if you don’t mind. He’s a bit of a specialist when it comes to coding. If there’s anything there to find, he’ll find it.”
Daryl slowly stood up. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He sounded distant. “Do what you need to do.”
Max stood up. “I’ll let you know if anything turns up. Just make sure you’re not late for that appointment.”
“I won’t be.” Daryl smiled and put out his hand. “Thank you for helping me, Max.”
“It’s what I do, kid.” Max smiled back, shaking Daryl’s hand. “We’ll take care of you.”
Max sat back down and watched Daryl shut the door quietly behind him. Something was definitely going on. He could feel it, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was yet.
He stared at the chair Daryl had been sitting in. His eyebrow slowly raised up. “What the hell?” He stood and walked to the chair. He ran a finger along the steel arm that Daryl had banged with his fist. It dipped slightly where he had struck it. “One helluva arm on that kid.”
Someone pounded on his door, nearly sending him into a coronary. It opened a moment later to reveal Chief Hanlon. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Kincaid! Jesus, it looks like you seen a ghost.”
“No, but you nearly scared mine straight outta me! What’s going on?”
“Oh! Sorry… I’m just a little excitable. Esposito’s ready to have a chat, and he wants it to be with you.”
“Well if it isn’t New Wave’s finest. Excuse me if I don’t get up.” Esposito smirked, holding up his shackled left wrist.”
Max tipped his fedora and smiled. “Good to see you again, Vic. I heard you wanted to talk over a few things.” He sat across the table from Esposito.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. And, uh…” Esposito rubbed the back of his head. “Well, maybe you have a point.”
Max nodded. “What changed your mind?”
Esposito leaned back. “I know Adesso. If he had wanted me out of here, I’d have been gone by now. Let’s just say the fact that he hasn’t exactly pounded down the door has given me cause for concern.”
“Fair enough. Well, I stand by what I told you the last time. You give us a hand and we’ll keep you safe.”
Esposito smiled and shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure I buy that. Who’s to say you’re not going to get what you want out of me and then leave me rotting in a jail cell?”
It was Max’s turn to smile. “You know damn well that we have more than enough on you to do that whether you talk or not. The real question is: Do you want to get out of prison this year, or next decade?”
“Touché. I assure you that I considered that as well. I can also assure you that the information I have is valuable enough that I do in fact expect to be released this year, preferably this month.”
Max spread out his hands. “I can’t make promises, you understand. If what you have is on the level… Anything’s possible.”
Esposito sighed. He looked tired. “Yeah. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Adesso picked up a new client lately, a big client.”
“You don’t say?”
“We’ve been working with Synthetics International.”
Max scoffed. “Synthetics International? You expect me to believe that? That company is worth hundreds of millions! What could they possibly need that Adesso offers?”
“Look, friend, I don’t expect nothing from you, but I promise you Adesso’s working with them. I’m only one of a handful of people that even know that much. All I know for sure is that they are working on some special project that may or may not be completely legal, if you catch my drift.”
“Is that right? Are there any other countries involved in this special project, by chance?”
Esposito shook his head
. “Nothing to do with espionage… At least not foreign espionage. Let’s just say that there might be some federal interests involved.”
Max looked Esposito in the eye. Esposito never blinked. “This is a lot to swallow, Vic. You know that.”
“I do, Kincaid. I’m telling you that it’s on the level. Do your homework. Just try to prove me wrong.”
Max nodded. “Oh, I will, Vic. I will. That’s my job. But if you’re right…” He extended his hand. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Esposito looked at Max, then at the extended hand. He reluctantly shook it. “You better not do me wrong, Kincaid.”
Max smiled. “I‘d never dream of it, friend. We’ll see you.”
Chief Hanlon was waiting outside of the interrogation room. His face was a garbled combination of joy and confusion. “I guess he was serious, but… Synthetics International? Do you think he’s serious, Max?”
Max shook his head. “I want to think he is. He seemed sincere, but what on earth could a company that big be doing that would require teaming up with such a liability? Whatever it is, it‘s got to be big.”
Hanlon nodded. “My thoughts, exactly. The question is, how do we go about finding out?”
“I have a friend downtown. He’s got an ear closer to the Synthetics industry than anyone I know. I got to tickle his brain about another case anyway. I can see if he’s heard anything.”
“Good enough. Keep me posted.” Hanlon clapped Max on the back.
5
Max stepped out into the evening air. The sun was just setting, although he couldn’t see it. Columns of concrete and glass closed in around him, cutting off the heat and the light of the last moments of the day.
He stared up at the twilight interlacing between the buildings, buttoning his trench coat. He brought in the brisk, clear air through his nose, smelling the coming autumn weather on the wind. He smiled.
It had been too long since he’d been downtown. Well, it’d been a long time since he’d been downtown off the clock. All work and no play… He imagined he was turning into one of the damned robots that seemed to be on every corner nowadays.
Max reached the red Aero from the dealership and kept walking. He fancied taking public transportation tonight. He felt out of touch with the city. That was a bad thing for a detective.
He navigated his way down into the subway. The smell and the grunge was an abrupt change from the clean, crisp air up above. The air down here was warm, damp.
He was there, though. Might as well push on. He continued down to the concourse and puzzled over the subway map. How long had it been since he’d taken the subway to Chinatown? He couldn’t remember.
“Do you require assistance?” Max jumped. It was a blue and chrome subway guardbot. Its glowing blue eyes considered Max carefully.
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’m trying to get to Chinatown.”
“Understood! Please proceed to platform B and wait for the red line. Can I be of further assistance?”
“No. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” The guardbot nodded curtly and continued on its way. Why couldn’t humans be that polite, he wondered?
Max did as the guardbot had suggested and waited for the red line to show up. He was starting to get excited about seeing Shen Jian again. Shen was an old friend of his, going back to his days as a beat cop.
The red line glided noiselessly to a stop in front of him. A smattering of passengers disembarked. He boarded a car and surveyed his companions. A pair of canoodling kids on one side, a disheveled-looking black and silver maidbot on the other. In the middle sat a female Synthetic. Wonderful.
He sat down halfway between the Synthetic and the maidbot and waited for the train to depart. He looked towards the maidbot and nodded. “How are ya?”
“My programming forbids me from talking to unauthorized users. Good day!” Friendly.
The train finally trundled to life, pulling away from the stop swiftly but smoothly. Max sighed and settled back into the green plastic seat. He pulled out a small, thin, black piece of glass: his smart phone. He pressed his thumb to the center of the glass. The screen illuminated a moment later.
A couple of taps later and he was looking at Daryl Marston’s threatening e-mails. Each one was like the other. A message of support or one of damnation. The message gave way to a series of letters, numbers and symbols. A message of opposing intent invariably lay at the bottom of each e-mail.
“You are different.” Max snapped his head up. He quickly realized it was the Synthetic addressing him.
Shit. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said that you are different.” Her turquoise eyes stood out in stark contrast of her jet-black hair. They were staring intensely into the detective’s own.
Max shifted uncomfortably. “We’re all different. I guess that makes us all the same, from a certain point of view.”
“Your eye. It is synthetic. Why?”
Max sighed. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
The Synthetic woman stared for a moment longer. “That is unfortunate. I find it fascinating.” The woman returned to looking forward and said no more.
Max raised an eyebrow, but returned his gaze to his smart phone. Curiosity in Synthetics wasn’t unheard of, but they weren’t usually so forward in seeking information. Sometimes he thought they were more human than they had any right to be.
The rest of the trip proved uneventful. Max yawned and stretched as the train slowed to a stop at his station. He’d normally be staring quietly at his telescreen at home, slowly losing a fight with his eyelids by this time of night.
He emerged onto a darkened street. The sudden rush of brisk air across his face did wonders for his mental acuity. He could hear the familiar sounds of Chinatown wafting down the street. He began to smile.
Max grinned as he rounded the corner. The large, ornate paifang shined down on him in hues of gold and red light. Imperial lion statues stood vigil on either side of the gateway, bathed in emerald green light.
The unique sounds of Chinese music played on a guzheng boomed from hidden speakers in either side of the gateway. A pair of Synthetic women dressed in cheongsam dresses smiled and bowed to Max as he passed. He smiled back, tipping his fedora.
The wide concourse quickly diverged into two distinct areas of interest. To the left were an abundance of tents and booths offering various curios, souvenirs, and the odd bit of contraband. On the right were a series of eateries consisting of everything from simple stands to sit-down restaurants.
Max ignored the tugging of his stomach for the time-being. Shen would be waiting for him in a booth on the left side. If he knew Shen like he thought he did, they would both migrate to the right side before the night was over. But for now, it was business before pleasure.
Any number of merchants shouted for his attention as he strolled past the various gadgets, doodads, and souvenirs. Not all of those shouting did so in English. Regardless, it was working, just not on him. He grinned at the sight of younger, less knowledgeable souls drifting into the various booths.
Max did stop before one particular booth outside of an electrical shop. An old, well-rounded Asian man sat on the opposite side of the table. He was puffing gently on a Churchwarden pipe.
His neatly trimmed beard stood in contrast to his long, flowing white hair tucked hastily behind his ears. He slowly looked up from the book he was reading to consider Max. His light-blue eyes grew wide. “Max Kincaid! Ha-ha! I do believe that it’s been ninety-seven years, give or take.”
Max grinned. “Jian! You haven’t changed a bit.” He stuck his hand out.
Shen Jian smiled broadly and took Max’s hand into his own and firmly shook it with both hands. “Please! Sit.” Shen gestured to a stool on the opposite side of the table. “Tell me, have you really missed my company enough to find your way down here, or do you need something?”
Max sighed, still grinning. “How about I tell you both? It really is good to see you, old friend, b
ut I do have a couple favors to ask of you.”
Shen dramatically widened his eyes and blew out a large puff of smoke. “Two favors! After three-hundred years, you come asking for two! Surely I only still owe you four or five dozen favors by now.”
“I think it’s me that owes you so many, but I still hope you’ll help me out.”
Shen squinted, then winked at the detective. “I always help those who help me.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m bored! I’ve been sitting here for two hours, and not one person has stopped to sample my wares.”
Max surveyed the table before him. An array of old electronics manuals stared back at him. He smirked. “I don’t think there’s much interest in these old things, my friend.”
Shen laughed. “No interest in old things, yet here you are talking to me! Now, what is it that I can help you with, dear friend?”
Max leaned in, lowering his voice. “Let’s just say that it’s not something I’d like to go spreading around.” Max darted his eyes to one side, then the other.
“Of course! Of course. I understand. Perhaps you’d share a drink with me in the back of my shop?” Shen stood up.
Max followed suit, grinning. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Hóu, you ignorant monkey! Go sit down!” Shen growled at the small orange and gray robotic animal. It screamed and chattered, blinking its glowing yellow eyes as it scrambled out of Shen’s reach. It made its way to the ceiling and hung upside down from a pipe by its jointed tail.
Max smirked. “The monkey’s new.” He sat down at a counter at the back of Shen’s electronics shop. Various computers, tablets, and partially-constructed robots were strewn about on various counters and tables.
Shen rolled his eyes. “Hóu is… unique. I thought he would make a good companion, someone to fetch things for me as I worked. He spends just as much time tearing the shop apart as he does being useful!” He swiped at the monkey, which chattered and deftly dodged the blow.
Preservation Protocol Page 5