Preservation Protocol

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Preservation Protocol Page 22

by John Prescott


  Serena’s eyes narrowed. “You know about the Enclave?”

  Donovan smiled. “There’s a lot I know about your little group, Miss Serena. It all plays into what we came here for.”

  “And you’re not going to tell us.”

  “You? No. This is for police ears only, specifically Kincaid’s ears.”

  “These people have done more than enough to earn the right to hear what you have to say, Donovan. They’ve been working closely with our precinct and I trust them implicitly.”

  Donovan looked bemused. “That’s interesting to hear from you, based on your history with them.” Serena looked from Donovan to Max, looking somewhat bemused herself.

  Max made a face at Serena and shrugged. He turned back to Donovan. “The times, they are a changing. Look… Can I at least give them a ride back to the Enclave?”

  “That will be fine. We’ll have to tag along, of course.”

  Serena looked unsure. “We’d prefer to keep our location as secure as possible.”

  “Ten twenty-one South Sycamore Lane, isn’t it? Used to be a cable production plant, I believe. Can we move this along? We have a lot to go over, detective.”

  Max looked at Serena uncertainly. She shook her head, shrugging. “Take us back.” She lowered her voice. “Mind your tongue. We’ll talk later, inside the Enclave.” Max nodded and winked.

  Max and Serena dropped back into the Aero and slammed their doors. Donovan hitched up one side of his coat and spoke into a hidden microphone. He waited for the lead vehicle to start before slinking back into his own. The makeshift motorcade was on its way.

  14

  The morning traffic was finally clearing up, much to Max’s chagrin. He was both intrigued and frustrated by Donovan’s sudden appearance. He was both eager and loathe to hear what he had to say.

  The detective had grown used to being in control of things. Hanlon usually gave him considerable latitude on how he handled his cases. He knew how things needed to be done, and they were done his way.

  He’d known Eric Donovan for less than ten minutes. The FBI agent had stripped that control away from him in less than five. That wasn’t the worst part of it, though.

  Donovan had said nobody had sent him. That obviously wasn’t the truth. Was it Hanlon? He had threatened to call on the FBI when things started getting serious. He was certain that Hanlon would have given him a heads-up if he had made that decision, and yet…

  Max sighed heavily as he pulled his tired old Aero into a parking space in the garage. Donovan pulled into the next spot down. He nodded to Max, smiling faintly. The detective nodded back after a heavy pause.

  The detective fairly exploded out of the Aero. Donovan scurried to catch up. Max was wasting no time in heading for the 29th precinct. “Eager to hear what I have to say, detective?” Max sensed a measure of snarkiness in his voice.

  “If I’m eager for anything, it’s to get this over with. I’m in the middle of what’s turning out to be a pretty big case.”

  “The Marston case? Yes, so I gather… I think you‘ll find that what I have to tell you is certain to eclipse it.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Max spoke under his breath. He smiled at the sight of a familiar face. “Good morning, Jax.”

  “Good morning, friend Max! I see you have a new friend!”

  Donovan held up his badge. “Special agent Eric Donovan, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Do you do that when you check out at the grocery store, too?”

  Jax did a double take at Max, then focused on the the badge. “Welcome to the 29th police precinct of New Wave City, special agent Donovan! You have full access to our facilities. If you need assistance, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  Donovan smiled and nodded to the robot. “Thank you… Jax, wasn’t it?” The robot nodded. The agent turned back to Max. “I appreciate the warm welcome.” Max gave Jax a wide-eyed stare as he passed by. Really? The robot smiled vacantly in return.

  Jake Cunningham looked up from his newspaper and smiled at Max. “Well if it ain’t the luckiest man alive! Heard tell you dodged a few more bullets over at Don Adesso’s favorite restaurant last night.”

  Max smiled and waved. “What can I say? I’m a popular guy.”

  “Ha! You’re a lucky guy, that’s what! Glad for it, though!”

  “You and me both, Jake!” Max gave one last wave as they rounded the corner.

  Donovan stopped Max. “You met with Don Adesso? The mob boss? And what’s this about a gunfight?”

  Max put on his best shit-eating grin. “What’s the matter, Donovan? Haven’t heard about it from your men already?” Donovan glared. Max walked. The special agent followed him to Hanlon’s office without another word.

  Hanlon smiled at Max through the open door. He shook his head. “How many lives can you possibly have left?”

  Max winked at Donovan. “News travels fast around here.”

  “Just tell me you weren’t the reason for the gunplay this time?”

  “Of course not, boss. I’m a good boy.” Donovan cleared his throat. “Oh, this is…”

  “Special agent Eric Donovan, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  “That’s one of his favorite things to say. You’ll probably hear it again before we get out of here.” Donovan closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “FBI, huh?” Hanlon’s eyes grew large. “This isn’t on me, Max. I never called…”

  “What do you mean, never called?” Donovan looked from Hanlon to Max and back.

  “We were tossing around the idea of calling you guys in on a case involving a replicant and murder-by-Synthetic.”

  “Ah yes, the Marston case. I saw the replicant when I first met Detective Kincaid. That was one of the driving forces behind my desire to make contact with him. Though I think I might be more interested to learn what he was doing meeting with the biggest mob boss in New Wave City.”

  “What’s the matter? He hasn’t told you, yet?” Max reveled in the confused look on Donovan’s face. “I’ll tell you all about it, after you tell me all about why you’re here in the first place.” He gestured to a chair in front of Hanlon’s desk.

  “Very well.” He sat down. Max shut the door and sat in a chair beside him. “This discussion is to be considered classified information. Please be mindful of whom you choose to share this information with.” Donovan’s eyes lingered on Max.

  “Two days from now, Senator Robert Quade will be visiting this city to make a speech about a piece of legislation he is pushing on capitol hill. As you may be aware, Mister Quade is known for his anti-Synthetic leanings. As you are aware, Detective Kincaid, that makes Mister Quade a prime target for the Synthetics known as the Enlightened.

  “Your expanding knowledge of this group -- and of the opposing Synthetic group, the Resistance -- is why we sought you out specifically. It is our belief that the Enlightened may use his speech as an opportunity to assassinate him. We think you could play a major role in mitigating that possibility.”

  Hanlon held up a hand. “I know enough about Synthetics to know that they’re relatively easy to spot at security checkpoints.”

  Donovan nodded. “Yes, but these aren’t run of the mill Synthetics, are they? The Enlightened have already displayed the ability and willingness to employ replicants.”

  Max shook his head. “There’s ways to pick up on replicants, too. I demonstrated that a short while ago.”

  “That’s one example of how your knowledge is going to help us keep Mister Quade’s speech from turning tragic.”

  Max crossed his arms. “I’d be an even bigger help if I could include the Resistance in this.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from, Detective Kincaid, but we have concerns about the Resistance group as well.”

  “Oh? How’s that?”

  “Chiefly? The preservation protocol. It’s the one thing that both factions have in common, is it not? It is a wild card that mak
es them unpredictable, potentially dangerous. They both bear the same basic programming, yet half have decided to put themselves above humans. Who’s to say those in the Resistance won’t ultimately make the same decision?”

  Max looked up suddenly. “You’re not saying they have a turncoat, do you?”

  “Not at all, but the possibility of one of them switching sides is a real concern.”

  “Look, I told you… I’ve been working with Serena for a while now and there’s no way she’d ever side with the Enlightened. They’ve been a big help with Daryl Marston. They’re potentially on the cusp of a major breakthrough on his case as we speak.”

  “Be that as it may Detective Kincaid, we are simply not comfortable working with them at this stage. There’s also the possibility of a looming battle between the two factions and…”

  “Are you saying the Enlightened are planning a move on the Resistance?”

  Donovan shook his head. “There‘s nothing concrete, but it‘s a possibility. Now, if you don’t mind, would you care to share with us what took place at Don Adesso’s restaurant?”

  “Fair’s fair I suppose, but two can play this game. What I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room. Our little get together was off the record, just like this conversation.” Donovan thought for a moment, then nodded with a sigh.

  “Don and I go way back. Now obviously our interests diverged at some point and we went our separate ways. We always stayed friendly, though.

  “That became handy when I found out from a coworker of his that Don had been doing some piecemeal work for Synthetics International. Fancy that, being that we were dealing with products of theirs that had turned murderous.

  “Long story short, Don’s boys were mainly doing espionage work for the company, maybe a little ‘massaging’ on the side. A little unusual for a business that size, but nothing too crazy. It’s what he said next that caught my attention.

  “The go-to person representing Synthetics International is a dead ringer for one Alexander. He’s a Synthetic, and the leader of the Enlightened.” Donovan’s eyes lit up with understanding.

  Max nodded. “I don’t think Don was working for Synthetics International. I think he was working for the Enlightened. The fact that Alexander pulled it over on Don so easy should be a big warning sign to you, Donovan.”

  “So do you think that this Alexander might have an eye towards using the mob to take out Robert Quade?”

  “It’s a real possibility, though it might not be much of a problem anymore. We also found out, in a very violent manner, that Don’s right-hand man had been replaced by a replicant. If anything, Alexander is going to want to stay far away from old Don right now.”

  “Maybe so… Do you think you could get another sit down with him and find out for sure?”

  Max laughed. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? A little birdy told me you folks are already on speaking terms with him.”

  Donovan half-shook his head. “I can neither confirm nor deny that. Such details would be classified. I…”

  “Calm down, special agent Eric Donovan. I know that’s not entirely unusual, either. Keep your enemies closer, and all that.”

  “Right… At any rate, can I count on you to help us protect Robert Quade?”

  Max shrugged. “As long as it’s okay with dad.” He eyed Hanlon.

  The chief smirked at Max, shaking his head. Jackass. He turned to Donovan. “You have the full support of this precinct.”

  “Fantastic!” Donovan stood. The other two followed suit. “I look forward to working with both of you. I need to discuss a few things with my superiors, but will be back later to go over the particulars.” He offered Max his hand.

  Max stared at it for a moment. “You will be open to help from the Resistance, I hope?”

  Donovan nodded. “As much as is possible under the circumstances.” Max took the hand and shook it.

  There came a knock on Hanlon’s door. “Come in!” Hanlon replied. Richard O’Connor stood in the doorway. “Oh! Sorry to intrude.”

  “No worries. I was just leaving.” Donovan smiled, nodding his head.

  “Richie!” Max beamed. “Just in time to meet our new friend!” Max looked at Donovan and gestured toward Richard.

  Donovan glared at Max, which only served to increase the detective’s joy. He slowly turned to Richard. “Special agent Eric Donovan, Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He shook Richard’s hand.

  Richard looked at the man in awe. “Richard O’Connor, sir! It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Max was beside himself. “What did I tell ya! Should’ve put money on it.”

  Richard looked at Max, confused. “Did I miss something? I missed something, didn’t I?”

  Max waved playfully to Donovan. “We’ll be waiting with bated breath, Donovan.” It was the agent’s turn to grunt. He nodded to O’Connor and saw himself out.

  Richard shut the door and sat down with Max and Hanlon. “I definitely missed something.”

  A cold, bitter wind pressed icy drizzle into the folds of Max’s trench coat. The brim of his hat did little to protect his face. He grimaced against the sting of the cold, secretly thankful for its rousing effect.

  The detective pressed on, slowly picking up speed as he went. He watched the glistening sidewalk slide by beneath him one square at a time. He looked up to see how close he was to Sam’s Diner.

  The wind set his battered fedora back on his head. He clumsily clutched at it, shoving it down on his head before returning his gaze to the ground. He stopped short of the diner’s door. A blue and green robot paused with a hand on the door handle.

  A blue LED smile not unlike Jax’s spread across the robot’s face. “Please, allow me!” The robot pulled the door open and waited for Max to enter.

  “Thanks,” Max croaked. He made a beeline for his favorite spot, shaking his coat as he went. He dropped down onto the stool with a happy groan.

  “How you doing, Tad?” Sam smiled at the blue and green robot.

  Tad was looking between the floor and his own wet body. “I’m quite wet, I’m afraid. I apologize for getting your floor wet, friend Sam!”

  Sam shook her head. “Don’t you worry, hon. Everybody else has been dragging in the rain all day.” She reached behind the counter and produced a large Styrofoam container. “Does Janet want it on her tab again?”

  Tad took the package. “Yes please, and thank you!” He waved with his free hand.

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Sam watched the robot leave, then moved to her favorite customer. “What’s the matter, detective? This weather don’t suit you?”

  Max sighed wearily. “I don’t like it, but yeah, it does.” Sam frowned. “Pour me up some Joe and I’ll tell you why.”

  “Sounds fair.” She slid a steaming mug towards Max a minute later. He cupped it with both hands and took a sip. “Now what’s got you frowning?”

  Max stared into his mug, watching the coffee lazily spin around. “I think maybe I’m finally getting in over my head, Sam.”

  “Oh? How’s that?” Sam leaned on the counter.

  “I had a sudden, unexpected talk with the FBI yesterday. Tomorrow I’m going to be trying to protect a United States Senator from being assassinated during a public speech.”

  Sam began to smirk. She thought better of it when she saw Max’s eyes. “I don’t understand. How? Why…” She sighed. “You get yourself into some interesting spots, Max Kincaid.”

  Max did smirk, nodding his head. “Too true. You ever heard of Robert Quade?”

  Sam’s eyes grew wide. She grimaced. “Yes! What a terrible, intolerant man. Is he coming to preach about how the Synthetics will steal all our jobs, then our freedom?”

  “Something like that, I’m sure. Turns out the FBI is worried that the Enlightened group of Synthetics might try to shut his mouth. Guess who they turned to for help?”

  “Oh! Well I can see why. You’ve been working closely with those other Synthetics. What were they? The Re
sistors…”

  “The Resistance. Yeah… The guy organizing security for the event thinks I have an inside edge on things. I suppose I probably do. I guess it’s not a bad thing…”

  “You guess? Holy jeez, Max! This could make your career! The government coming to you for help. Could be great shakes if things turn out well.”

  Max nodded and returned to staring at his coffee. “The funny thing is, I’m not all that thrilled about it. Donovan, the guy in charge of all this, he doesn’t want me telling the Resistance anything.”

  Sam stood up and crossed her arms. “Oh really? What good are your connections if you can’t use them?”

  Max snickered. “Oh, he wants me to use them. He just doesn’t want the traffic to go both ways.”

  “Well, what he doesn’t know…” Sam shrugged and winked.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, that he will know. You know how I feel about Synthetics, Sam. I tolerate them alright, but they’re still machines at the end of the day. I mean they act like they feel, but I know they don’t.”

  Sam leaned forward. “But?”

  Max smirked, lifting his gaze. “But… these Synthetics are different. They have something… the preservation protocol… that makes them almost human. They have hopes, ambitions… Serena wept for a member of her group that was destroyed at the Piccolo.

  “Anyway… I think Donovan has intel on a plot against the Resistance. It might have something to do with what was in Daryl’s noggin, or not. I keep hoping to hear they’ve cracked that nut, but nothing yet.

  “The thing is, Donovan said if he found out I shared anything classified with the Synthetics, he’d consider it treason. But if Serena is in trouble… I don’t like being told what to do, Sam.”

  Sam laughed. “You don’t have to tell me that, Max! But tell me: What are you going to do about it?”

  Max smiled and shook his head. “The funny thing? I came here hoping you’d tell me what I should do.”

  “No. You know what you should do. You just wanted to hear me tell you that it’s okay.”

 

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