Liquid Cool

by Austin Dragon

  This was the scene of the crime. The kidnapping of a little girl as her mother walked her to school. It was the other anomaly the human computer, known as Compstat Connie, mentioned and I agreed. The crime took place at or before the shootout on Sweet Street that ended with the death of Easy Chair Charlie. To a normal person, both events would be unconnected; the fact that they occurred on the same night would mean nothing. But now that I was here and walked the alley, I felt otherwise. The end of the alley, where the daughter and mother would have emerged, had a view. It was a view unobstructed by monolith towers as one would expect, based on a quick glance of a street map on one’s mobile. Woodstock Falls was a neighborhood of hills, and the neighboring Old Harlem was not. From Alien Alley in Woodstock Falls was a clear view, across the way, of Joe Blows Smoking Emporium, with all its flashing neon lights on Sweet Street.

  Was the little girl just kidnapped at random? Or was it because she saw something or someone she wasn’t supposed to see? And now that I confirmed from Box that the someone was a cyborg psycho, named Red Rabbit, the connections were coming together. The events not only happened in close proximity, but they happened on top of each other. I cared about my Easy Chair Charlie Case, but it coincided with the Lutty Girl Kidnapping Case. I had no proof at all, but they were connected.

  Those were the “whats” of the cases. It was the “how” and “why” of my Easy Chair Charlie Case I needed. I kept babbling to myself. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I said to myself.

  Mad Heights.

  I was stalling for time, and I knew it. For damn good reason.

  When I came through my office door, PJ was fiddling with a new purple mobile computer on her desk.

  “Look what I got,” she said.

  “What happened to the old one?”

  “Oh, I burned the keys out on that one.”

  “Just replace the keyboard.”

  “It costs the same to replace the keyboard as it does to get a whole new mobile computer. So I got a new one.”

  “You should get one of those auxiliary keyboards, so all you have to do is replace those.”

  She smiled. “You do come up with good ideas every so often.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told. Visitors?”

  “None.”

  “Calls?”

  “A ton. All on your desk.”

  “What about the window? I don’t why it took so long to fix. How can it take three weeks to fix a window? Don’t throw any more people out my window.”

  “I didn’t throw anyone out. You shot him out the window.”

  “What about the window, then?”

  “Fixed and as good as new, but we can’t keep shooting it out. Do you have any new clients? The paying kind?”

  I walked away into my personal office.

  We all needed to get paid. I was burning through money like a billion-sheet roll of toilet paper in the center of the sun. I could see the words flash in my brain: “Most businesses fail because of lack of adequate start-up capital.”

  “You Cruz?” the man on my video-phone asked.

  “I, Cruz.”

  “You detective?”

  “I detective.”

  “Good, I need you to shoot someone.”

  “Shoot wounded or shoot dead?”

  “Shoot dead.”

  “My firm doesn’t offer that as a service yet, but I’ll refer you.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Do you have something to write on?”

  “Hold on…Got it.”

  “Nine.”

  “Nine.”

  “One.”

  “One.”

  “One.”

  “One.”

  “That’s two ones after the nine. Call that express line and ask for the same thing, and they’ll help you.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “It has to be a detective?”

  “Oh yes. You can cover up your tracks, so the cops don’t catch you.”

  “You’re a real, live genius.”

  “Oh, I not all that, but I is smart.”

  “Hiring a detective to kill someone. That’s like hiring a fireman to do an arson job for you. You smart.”

  “Oh yes. I try.”

  “Call that number and hire your guy. But don’t mention my name, or they’ll jack up the price on you.”

  “Okay. Thanks detective.”

  “Happy to help.”

  I disconnected my video-phone. “PJ!” I yelled.

  The call came in when I was hunched over my desk re-prioritizing my messages. I had the “hot” pile, the “hold” pile, the “hell no” pile, and a few other miscellaneous ones.

  “Line one.” PJ’s voice came through my video-phone intercom.

  I thought it funny to hear PJ say “line one” when all I had was one line.

  Run-Time appeared on the video display with his trademark flat cap.

  “How are you, sir?” I said.

  “I’m blessed, and I hear you’ve been too.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ve had a good start, aside from a few unpleasantries.”

  “Unpleasantries are a fact of life. Are you officially back from your vacation? The Box is what I was told you call it.”

  “I’m back with a new hat, new coat, and new attitude to make things happen. I’m back.”

  “Good. I have another client for you.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Carol Num…”

  “The mother of the kidnapped girl.”

  Run-Time stopped a beat. “You know her?”

  “I heard about it when I was poking around for Fat Nat.”

  “She’s in a bad way, and Flash asked me to intervene.”

  “Flash is always the knight in shining armor to the rescue.”

  “I’m going to see her tomorrow, and I’d like to have a solution for her. Maybe, if I could say a detective friend would take a look.”

  “I’ll take it. The case.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Sure. I told you, I’m back.”

  “She’s very fragile, and my police friends say there’s nothing happening with the case.”

  “When do you want me to come by to meet her?”

  “Tomorrow. One of my VPs’ll call you and confirm.”

  “I’ll clear my schedule.”

  Chapter 44

  Carol Num

  I MADE GOOD TIME TO Let It Ride Enterprises headquarters in Peacock Hills. However, all the extra time I thought I had was eaten up by the awful Electric Blvd. hovertraffic. Valet took my Pony—I never allowed valet to touch my vehicle anywhere else, but I knew all of Run-Time’s people, so it was okay—and I got in the elevator capsule.

  “Mr. Cruz.” His Lebanese VP was waiting for me, and after I replied with a greeting, she led me up to Run-Time’s executive office.

  “Cruz.” Run-Time’s smile was always infectious. We greeted each other, and he gestured me to an empty seat in his inner sitting area.

  There she was—Carol Num, a Caucasian female with dark hair, still wearing her gray slicker with a mini-umbrella clipped to the waist. I shook her hand and sat across from her. Run-Time and his VP sat in their facing chairs. We were all sitting on one side of a cube design. I could see in her eyes this was no ordinary meeting with a client. In her eyes, I was her last hope. I had to be very careful what I said. She was on the edge of sanity. The police had done nothing, in her mind, and no one else had either.

  “Should I call you, Mrs. Num?”

  “No, please call me Carol.”

  “Carol, I’m going to apologize right at the start.”

  “For what?” I could see the hope in her eyes preparing itself to die.

  “Because I’m about to speak to you in a somewhat unfriendly, accusatory way that victims in your situation do not deserve.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I need you to tell me the truth, not the story you’ve been telling the poli
ce or my friend here.”

  Carol’s head jerked back in total shock. “I don’t know what you mean. I have only told the truth. My daughter was taken from me.”

  “That’s probably the only true part of the story, but I want to know the part before and the part after, but only the truth.”

  “I did say the truth!” Carol jumped from her seat, her eyes tearing up.

  The VP stood quickly and took her hand and, though I didn’t look at him, Run-Time was giving me a look I had never seen from him in all the years we’d known each other—anger.

  I stood slowly from my chair. “Carol, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to help you. If you can’t give me the whole truth, then how am I supposed to go after the kidnapper? I’m sorry.”

  I stepped away from my chair and walked to the office door—slowly. Carol, the VP, and even Run-Time stood there with their mouths hanging open.

  “Wait!” Carol yelled.

  I stopped and looked back at her.

  “How did you know I wasn’t telling the truth?” she asked.

  The look on both the VPs’ and Run-Time’s faces. They did a double-take and stared at her.

  “Well, for one, I looked into your background and found that you owned a plasma gun. That is a serious gun, and you got it four years ago, so it was just before you started walking your daughter to school. That meant you carried it whenever you walked her to school for protection, that night, too. You were armed that night and there’s no way you would let some guy in a rabbit mask get your daughter without a shot.

  “Then I heard you were wandering the streets and happened to come across some low-level street punk corner king. Everyone said it was random. Bull. Among other things, he’s a weapons dealer on the street. This kidnapper, supposedly, has a very unique kind of gun. You were going to the only person you knew who would know that. Meaning, you must have bought at least one illegal gun from the guy. Meaning, you must have also seen his gun that night when he kidnapped your daughter. Mrs. Num, I don’t have time for games. This kidnapper is a gang member called Red Rabbit, but there isn’t anything funny about him. How am I going to find his Animal Farm Crime Syndicate that he’s a part of, find their hideout, rescue your daughter…how can I do all that successfully without the whole truth and nothing but? Your daughter could be getting killed right now, while we’re playing games.”

  That did it. Carol broke down into a sobbing mess.

  “She ran ahead of me. We were both running down the alley, but you know kids, and I’m no spring chicken anymore. She sprinted way past me. When she got to other end of the alley, she stopped and went around the corner, and I couldn’t see her. I ran as fast as I could.”

  We were all back in our chairs as Carol recounted the real story.

  “When I got around the corner, there was this man wearing a rabbit mask on his head, and his arms were metallic, and he was trying to grab my Lutty. He was holding some kind of machine gadget in his other hand. That’s the only way my Lutty was able to fight him off. I heard gunfire in the distance. I jumped on him and started punching his head, but it was solid…like padded metal. He threw me off and grabbed my Lutty by the collar and ran off with her!”

  The VP had to calm her down.

  Her face turned mean. “Before he grabbed her, though, I pulled out my gun and shot him, over and over, but nothing happened. He laughed and told me that if he had a third arm, he’d show me what a real scary gun looked like. That he’d vaporize me and I’d find out why he was called Red.” She got quiet as she lowered her head. “Then he ran off with her.”

  My mannerism was to lean forward when I wanted to have a pointed conversation. With Run-Time, it was the opposite. He leaned all the way back in his chair, and he looked at Carol angrily.

  “Carol, why didn’t you tell me the truth. Why did you do this? Cruz is right. Your own daughter could be getting killed. Why wouldn’t you have told the police this before?”

  She hesitated for what seemed like forever. “I did.”

  “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

  “I did tell the police what happened.” We looked at her, confused. “They were right there at the scene. I told them everything, and then they threatened me and said the city police would arrive and told me what to say to them and anyone who asked. They said if I didn’t do what they said, they’d arrest me and lock me up forever, and I would never get my daughter back.”

  “The Feds?” Run-Time asked, which is what I thought, too. “The Feds told you to do this?”

  When Carol shook her head “no,” it was the first time I had ever seen Run-Time scared. Because he was scared, his VP was scared, and they glanced at me.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “Not the Feds? If not the Metro police and not the Feds, then who? What other police are there?”

  “Cruz, let’s talk privately for a minute,” Run-Time said and stood from his chair.

  “It’s over,” he said.

  He had led me out of his office, down the hall, and into a side conference room. The room was not as big as his office, but huge nonetheless.

  “What do you mean, it’s over?”

  “Cruz, stop investigating the case. You’ll be paid for your time.”

  “Forget about that. What about her daughter?”

  Run-Time paused.

  “That is why you called me down here.”

  “Can you really find the daughter?”

  “I can. I’m sure I can. But…”

  “But what?”

  “It’s going to be extremely dangerous.”

  “Then the police have to be brought in.”

  “What police are not the Feds and not the city police? You might as well tell me now, because you know I won’t let it go.”

  “You have to let it go.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Interpol.”

  I gave him a confused look. “Interpol? You mean international police?”

  “I guess they were international in the beginning. When cars drove on wheels on the ground. But the Feds, nowadays, are international.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “The Interspace Police.”

  Now I understood. “The police from Up-Top.”

  “Their authority includes not only off-world, but supersedes the city police and the Feds on Earth.”

  “I take it this is a bad thing.”

  “They could come down and blow up City Hall, and there wouldn’t be anything the Mayor, Metro Police, or the Feds could do about. Their power is global, in the truthful, nonmetaphorical sense.”

  “Then I have to go after the girl.”

  “If you know where she is, let’s tell the police and let them handle it. That’s the only play we have. You do not want to be involved with Interpol. This isn’t a request, Cruz.”

  “Run-Time, the girl.”

  I could see the battle in Run-Time’s mind. “Cruz, no megacorp, no criminal cartel, no elected official—the Mayor, the City Council President, the Director of the Feds…none have the kind of power these people have.”

  “I understand.”

  “You get on their bad side, and they can jam up everyone you know. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “You.”

  “Yes, me, but that’s not the everybody I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah,” I said, softly.

  “Marriages don’t work out so well when one or both parties are in a space station prison.”

  “Okay, we do it your way, but I can still try to get the girl. I never was one for the political stuff. That’s your specialty. Whatever is going on shouldn’t include a little girl being kidnapped and held against her will.”

  “Why do you think the girl is alive? Even I think she’s dead and, especially now, that I’ve heard Carol’s real story.”

  “It’s better I don’t answer that, until we see how this all plays out.”

  “Cruz, do not say anything about what Carol said. It w
ould put her in danger.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. The only thing on my mind is getting her daughter. She’s had enough danger for a lifetime.”

  Chapter 45

  Blue Pill Rabbit

  I WAS MAN ENOUGH TO admit it. I was scared.

  No, this wasn’t me after I spoke with Run-Time in his offices, and we went back to see Carol on her way. This was me two days earlier after I left my three detective pow-wow with Box and Rexx. Red Rabbit was in Mad Heights. That’s where I was going. The reason I could promise Run-Time I’d lay low was because I had done all my dangerous detecting stuff the day before. Of course, I didn’t tell Run-Time that.

  When you live in a big city, such as Metropolis, you learn your place. You knew where your people hung out—working class, wealthy class, sidewalk johnnies, skaters, hackers, speed racers, etc. You learned where the city-crawl dancers, the biker enthusiasts, historical societies, etc. hung out. Then there were the mean streets, and all the groups that hung out there. You learned where you could go and where you couldn’t go in the city, if you didn’t want a beat-down or wanted to stay alive.

  Like in Hell, the criminal world had levels of bad, then you got to the really bad, then to true evil; beyond that, you didn’t even want to know. Mad Heights wasn’t the hangout for the truly evil, but it was for the truly bad and the truly violent.

  When we were kids, growing up, was the first time we ever heard about Mad Heights. When I was on the race circuit, albeit brief, one part of our illegal hovercar race passed through the area. It was a big scandal. The guy who organized the race was killed. The rumor was that he was killed by Mad Heights gangs, because he didn’t pay for passage through their turf. That talk made adults run away chicken. Imagine what we did as kids. You even mentioned Mad Heights, and we’d want to run and leave town.

  And now I was going there.

  I was tempted to bring Punch Judy into it, but I couldn’t do that for many reasons. One, she was a felon, and I couldn’t put her into that situation. She needed to stay far away from that world for her own personal mental sanity. I was her second chance at a normal life, and I couldn’t be the one to ruin it. Second, she was a gang member. True, most people didn’t consider posh gangs to be real gangs, but if I took her into such a situation, and we were confronted by trouble, she’d revert to her old gang instincts. Guns, gangs, cyborgs. Not good. Posh gangs were at the bottom of the totem pole of criminal gangs, along with white-collar, couch-potato gangs doing crime via mobile computer alone, so that would make PJ more violent in dealing with another gang.