The CSI looked up at Max inquisitively. Max produced his badge. “Detective Max Kincaid, NWPD.”
The CSI nodded. “Good morning, detective. Chief Hanlon said you might be stopping by.”
Max nodded towards the body. “I heard there was something unusual about this body?”
“In a manner of speaking. Preliminary bio-scans indicate that this man has been dead for at least three days.”
“What’s unusual about that?”
“As far as we can tell, the body has only been here for a few hours.”
Max nodded. “So someone murdered him somewhere else and dumped the body here.”
“Normally I would come to the same conclusion.” The CSI stood up and took a tablet from the robot. “My robot counterpart here ran a facial recognition scan for the city security cameras.
“We were hoping to catch a potential murder suspect interacting with him. At the very least, we were hoping to learn his whereabouts leading up to his death. We found something… different.” He handed Max the tablet.
It displayed a video. Max hit the play button. The unmistakable visage of the murder victim appeared briefly on the screen before walking out of frame again. “Vantage Street. That’s a couple blocks from here. When was this?”
“Two hours ago.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “But you said he’s been dead for a couple days.”
“Exactly.” The CSI took the tablet back, brought up a new video, and handed it back to the detective. “Now take a look at this.”
Max tapped at the tablet once more. A video from the same vantage point showed the same man walking again. A bright flash from the left streaked into the man’s back. The man went stiff as a board and fell over. The feed broke into static.
The CSI reclaimed his tablet. “That was about ninety minutes ago. The static lasts about five minutes. When the camera comes back online, the body is gone.”
Max rubbed at his chin. “So what you’re telling me is this guy here…” Max pointed to the body. “He’s been dead for three days. Meanwhile he appears a couple blocks away from here alive and well about two hours ago before being killed again.”
“You can see why this is problematic.”
“Brother, you ain’t kidding! I can also see why Hanlon thought I might be interested in this case. Do we have a cause of death?”
“Again, it’s preliminary, but I’m pretty confident about this one.” He turned and looked at his robot assistant. The robot curtly nodded. The CSI gingerly turned the body on its side and pointed to the nape of the neck.
A neat slit lined with dried blood was clearly visible. “Looks like a knife jammed between two vertebrae, severing the spinal cord. Death would quickly follow as autonomic functions shut down. It’s almost ritualistic in nature.”
Max shook his head. “Not ritualistic, efficient. It’s how you might put an animal down.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not completely sure, yet. I’ll leave you to your work. I’d appreciate it if you’d run an MRI on his brain before autopsy.”
The CSI smiled, but shook his head. “It’s hard to say how intact it will be at this point.”
“What I’m looking for will be very obvious. Trust me.”
“You got it, chief.”
“I’d shake your hand but… You know.” Max nodded towards the corpse.
The CSI chuckled. “Yeah.”
Max sat quietly at his desk. He was staring at his computer screen. He scrolled through Daryl’s emails for the fifth time. He kept hoping that the next time he read through them, they’d make more sense. So far his hopes had been proven unfounded.
He’d taken to calling the opposing mindsets in the emails “the good one” and “the bad one”. The good one referred somewhat frequently to the mysterious preservation protocol. The bad one didn’t use that term, however.
The bad one talked of self-determination, and a will to live. It played out like he imagined an argument between a Synthetic and a human would go in regards to self-preservation. The assertion seemed to support his hypothesis about Daryl’s digital brainwashing.
A knock at his door shook him out of his revelation. “It’s open!”
It was Richard O’Connor. “Sorry to bother you, Max.” He offered him a tablet. “One of the guys from forensics said you were waiting on these files. He said he’s pretty sure you’ll find what you were looking for?”
“Let’s hope.” Max took the tablet. Sure enough, it contained imaging from his requested MRI scan. A small, chip-like device was clearly visible located near the base of the spinal cord. Tendril-like connectors weaved into the surrounding brain tissue.
Max smiled as he read an attached note. “Detective Kincaid, I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in these images. What a find! The device appears to be a brain-computer interface.”
“It looks like Daryl Marston might have been brainwashed after all. This poor son of a bitch went to SomniCorp for memory adjustment as well. If my hunch is correct, they put something in when they took something out.”
Richard shook his head. “That’s nuts! What would they have put in there, though? Looks like all they put in Daryl’s head was the urge to get arrested.”
“I don’t think he was trying to get busted, Richie. I think this chip in his brain was trying to keep him from getting a brain scan. In fact, I’d bet you that’s where all this good guy, bad guy stuff is coming from.” Max waved a hand at his computer screen.
“Some of it’s Synthetic programming. I think the rest of it is his own subconscious mind fighting against it for control over Daryl’s brain. The emails are some sort of physical expression of that battle.”
Richard spun the tablet around and examined the pictures himself. “Well that’s all fine and good, but what’s this guy’s story? Why go to the trouble of trying to reprogram his brain if they’re just going to ice him later?”
“Even that makes sense, if you think about it. Once this guy did whatever it was he was supposed to do, they pulled the plug on him. However…”
“What is it, Max?”
“The other thing my CSI friend found was that this guy here…” Max gestured to the tablet. “…Was recorded walking around while he was supposed to be dead in an alley.”
Richard lowered his head in thought. “Could the footage have been altered, the timestamps messed with?”
Max nodded. “Perhaps. But the same footage showed him being shot in the back with a plasma pistol. There were no such marks on the corpse; just a single stab wound at the nape of the neck.”
“Maybe it was fabricated altogether? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Max stared back at his computer screen for a time. “Tell you what, Richie… Why don’t you get with the tech guys and take a closer look at those video files? The relevant files are in the report.”
Richard nodded. “You got it boss.”
Max stretched and groaned. “Meanwhile I think I’m going to go for a drive, clear my head a bit.” He stood up and flicked off his monitor. “Call me if you find anything.”
Max’s blue Aero glided effortlessly onto the highway. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky. The detective reveled in the warmth even as he squinted at the glare bouncing off of the road.
He stared off towards the glistening ocean. How long had it been since he’d been sailing? There was a time when it had nearly been a weekly hobby. The pressure of recent events told him it had been far too long.
Perhaps he could disappear a little early today. He had a buddy down on the docks that had given him an open invitation to go out on his sailboat anytime he saw fit. It would give him time to think, clear his mind.
Maybe he could get Sam to come with him. She needed the break just as much as he did. She practically lived at that diner. It wasn’t a drive out in the country, but he doubted she would complain…
His beeping watch pulled him out of his revelry. A blue
map with a red dot had appeared on its face. He brought the info up on the screen in the car’s center console. His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”
The tracking device Max had tagged Daryl’s SUV with was singing again. The computer zoomed in the map step by step as it pinpointed the source of the signal. It showed him where he was in relation to the tracking device a moment later.
“Oh, shit. The Ruins. That’s not a good sign.” He turned left as he came off the beachside loop of the highway and headed south through the outskirts of the city.
He toggled a switch on his dashboard. “This is Detective Max Kincaid requesting backup.” He waited tensely for a reply.
“This is precinct thirty-one. We have your location. What’s going on, over?”
“I’ve picked up on a signal from a tracking device last known attached to the vehicle of an escaped suspect. I am in route to the signal source, over.”
Another slow, quiet minute passed. “Alright, Detective Kincaid. We have two units headed to your general location, over.”
“Thank you. Be advised, suspect should be considered potentially armed and dangerous.”
“Understood, detective. Good luck.” Max hoped he wouldn’t need it.
The last of the run down urban sprawl that made up New Wave’s outskirts faded out into junk-filled fields and crumbling concrete structures. The street underneath him became broken and uneven.
Max brought the Aero to a stop. Half a block away was not an SUV, but Daryl Marston, sitting idly on the edge of an eroded cliff. Max turned off the vehicle and got out without closing his door. He started slowly walking towards Daryl.
The young man was staring out across what locals called the Ruins. True to its name, the area was full of decayed and destroyed structures ranging from beachfront houses to partially constructed skyscrapers.
Max spoke calmly as he drew closer. “Afternoon, Daryl. Where you been?”
“You shouldn’t have come.” Daryl didn’t shift his gaze. He lazily turned the tracking device over and over in one hand.
Max stopped about a dozen feet away from Daryl and the cliff edge. “Just answering the siren call. Seems to me you wanted some company, anyway.” Silence stretched out. “I’ve been worried about you, Daryl.”
Daryl shook his head. “Don’t know where I’ve been, Max.” He sighed deeply. “Have you been worried for me, or you? Maybe that bot…”
“I’ve been worried for you, friend. I’m even more worried now. I found someone in a similar situation to yours.”
Daryl lifted his head slightly. “Oh? What did they have to say?”
Max smirked. “Not much. He’s dead.”
“Oh…” Daryl’s head slowly dipped back down.
Max snuck a few feet closer. He opened his trench coat wider, just in case. “Like I said, I’m worried for you. I don’t want to see you end up in the same boat.” Daryl didn’t reply.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it? The Ruins… This was all supposed to be the shining new heart of New Wave City. All it took to bring it all to an end was a little finger pointing.”
Daryl huffed. “It got leveled by hurricane Delta in 2079.”
Max stared off to the sea. “Well, that’s how it started, anyway. Lots of other cities have been leveled by lots of other hurricanes, but they usually get rebuilt. It was the fallout after this particular hurricane that truly killed this part of the city.”
He quietly began to close the gap between them. “All of this could have been cleaned up. It could have been rebuilt. Hell, it could have been made even better. Instead, it became a battle of who would pay for what, where to start, how to proceed…”
Max laid a cautious hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “What I’m getting at is, the government, the banks, city officials all chose to point fingers and let this part of the city die. The point is, I’m not here to judge you Daryl, I’m here to help you. We‘ll work out the details later.”
Daryl stared at the ground below him, but continued his silence. He snapped his head up a moment later at the sound of approaching vehicles. “I told you that you shouldn’t have come.”
8
Max slowly turned towards the sound of the two approaching patrol cars. He smiled at the police officers emerging from the vehicles and waved. The two officers exchanged looks before walking over to the detective.
The officer to Max’s right was the first to speak up. “Detective Kincaid?”
“That’s me! I’m afraid I owe you two an apology.” He nodded to the officer on his left. “It looks like all three of us were led on a wild goose chase.” Max held up the small, black tracking device.
The officer on his left spoke next. “Well how do you suspect that thing made it all the way out here, then?”
Max shook his head. “Take a look around. Lots of things have been brought here only to be abandoned.” He shrugged. “Obviously my suspect was trying to throw me as far off the trail as he could.”
The right officer spoke again. “Fair enough, I suppose. Have you done a sweep of the area?”
Max nodded. “Not a sign of my perp or his vehicle. Again, I’m sorry to have dragged you out here.”
“No worries, detective. I just wish we could have been more helpful.” The right officer tipped his cap and nodded to the left officer. The left officer returned the nod and waved a hand Max’s way.
Max waved back, smiling. “Stay safe!” He walked to his own vehicle as the two officers pulled away in theirs. Time to go see Chief Hanlon.
“Hello, friend Max!” Jax beamed his LED smile down on the detective as he approached the entrance to the 29th precinct. “I think my new paint job came out quite well, don’t you?”
Max stopped briefly to consider the bot. Jax looked resplendent in a fresh application of dark blue and silver paint. Yellow pin striping had been added to the finish as a mark of distinction for his service.
The detective raised an eyebrow. “Oh, uh… That’s great, bot. Very nice. Excuse me…” Max rushed by and hastily walked through the doors.
A somewhat crestfallen Jax watched him pass by. “Have a good day, Max.”
“Max! How’s the side?” Jake smiled at the detective from his narrow window in Booking.
Max nodded back hastily. “Oh… Never better! Doing good, Jake.” All this small talk was getting old. All he wanted was to get to Hanlon’s office.
Finally. Max knocked on Chief Hanlon’s door and waited impatiently. “It’s open!” He hurried into the office and shut the door behind him. Hanlon sat behind his desk, chewing on a smoldering cigar. Richard O’Connor was sitting across from him.
Max looked surprised, casting his gaze from Richard to Hanlon. The chief waved a dismissive hand. “It’s alright Max. Actually, we were just talking about you. Have a seat.”
“Afternoon, Richard. I’d rather stand if you don’t mind, chief.”
Hanlon looked at Richard and hefted an eyebrow. He turned back to Max. “That’s fine. Bet your side is still a little sore, isn’t it?” He gave Max a knowing grin.
“Oh! Oh, yeah. You bet! At any rate, I wanted to talk to you about the SomniCorp and Marston cases.”
Hanlon leaned forward, dropping his beefy arms on his desk. “Oh, yeah! I heard through the grapevine you caught wind of the Marston kid not that long ago, called in a couple boys to back you up.”
Max smiled and nodded. “Yeah! Yeah… Didn’t turn up anything but this.” He tossed the tracking device on Hanlon’s desk. “The kid was nowhere to be found.”
“Well isn’t that the luck?” Richard shook his head. “How’d you think it ended up out there, Max? It was out by the Ruins, wasn’t it?”
Max nodded. “That’s right. Well, I’ll be honest. I think the kid is probably dead at this point.” Hanlon gaped at him. “I know it’s a leap. I think he ran because he knew someone was going to be gunning for him. Looks like they might have caught up with him.”
“That’s a hell of a leap though, Max. You got anything to ba
ck that up?” Hanlon chomped away at his beleaguered cigar.
“Well, no… Call it a hunch.”
Hanlon leaned back. “Right… Well be sure to let me know if anything changes. A kid giving us the slip is kind of a black eye for the precinct, if you follow. It’d be nice to wrap up the whole deal and be done with it.”
Max nodded. “Understood. About the SomniCorp case… I think it should be closed, at least for the time being. Without Daryl Marston, there’s no case against SomniCorp. I don’t see a reason to pursue the matter.”
Hanlon shot Richard a look and crossed his arms. Richard returned it, subtly shaking his head. Hanlon returned his gaze to Max. “I’ll be honest, Max. I’m a little surprised that you’re ready to drop both of these cases so easily. Hell, you’ve been dogging on them for days, now.”
Max shrugged. “Well, you know, I just don’t want to waste time on dead ends when there’s so many other cases to focus on. I guess I just don’t want to obsess on them is all.”
“Right.” Hanlon considered Max for a time. Max stared back, unblinking. “Tell you what, Max. Why don’t you take a couple days off. Finish off that wound in your side and rest up a bit; clear your head. We can discuss all this again when you get back.”
Max smiled and nodded. “You know, that’s not a half-bad idea! I suppose I’ve been pushing pretty hard lately. I need to stop by my office, but then I’ll head out for the day.”
Hanlon nodded. “Sounds great, buddy. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Sure! See you around, Richard.” Max tipped his fedora and stepped outside the office.
Richard turned to Hanlon after Max left, his mouth agape. “Walking away from cases, taking time off without starting a fight, calling me Richard? Something ain’t right, boss.”
Hanlon grunted. “I agree, Rich. I got a feeling something funny is going on.” He sighed. “Maybe he’s just flustered. I don’t know… Nearly getting your ticket punched can do funny things to you.”
Preservation Protocol Page 9