by H J Peterson
Hiro could tell that Ichirou didn’t like the sound of that, but he didn’t argue with her. Berkowitz came into the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was wearing his formal uniform: he must have had something important that day, though she could only speculate about what it was.
He took one look at her leg and cursed, running a hand through his thinning hair.
“Oh, hell, kid,” he said. “Brooks told me that things weren’t looking too good, but I didn’t think it had come down to-“ he motioned at her leg “-this!” He sat down in a chair. “I swear, I’m going to strangle that stupid bastard the next time I see him; ‘it’s not looking too good but she’ll be fine’, my ass!”
Hiro frowned, more than a little confused. Was it just her, or was Berkowitz actually concerned?
“When did you have the operation?” Berkowitz asked. “And where the hell did you get the money to pay for a leg as nice as that one, moonlighting as an opium dealer?”
“I just woke up from surgery,” Hiro said, looking down at the leg. She willed the toes to wiggle, but only the big toe moved, and it moved in the wrong direction. Well, at least she knew that her body was trying to accept it, so far. “Manfred II and Lady von Braun paid for it: they said that they didn’t want me going bankrupt over this whole mess.”
“The benefits of giving the department some good press, I’d imagine,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. He looked up at the doctor and Ichirou. “Now, I know who you are,” he pointed at the doctor, then at Ichirou, “but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, before.”
“That’s my older brother, Ichirou,” Hiro said as her boss and her brother shook hands. “He’s the one who put me through school.”
“So, you’re the one I have to thank for this one?” Berkowitz asked, nodding at Hiro. He shrugged. “You did right by her, I guess; she’s stubborn and a pain in the ass, but that can come in handy, sometimes.”
Hiro wasn’t sure of whether or not that was supposed to be an insult or his first ever compliment of her.
“Now, enough with the small talk,” Berkowitz said. “When are you going to be able to come back to work?”
“She’ll be discharged from the hospital in a few hours, once we make sure that her body will accept the leg,” the doctor said. “After that, she will have to walk with a cane for about a week while she gets used to it, but after that, she’ll be back to her old self.”
“I’ll come in as soon as I get discharged,” Hiro said.
“That’s good to hear,” Berkowitz said. “Brooks is really going to need your help on the case.”
Hiro perked up. “Did we catch a break?”
The doctor and Ichirou went to leave, assuming that this was a conversation that they weren’t supposed to hear.
“You don’t have to leave,” Berkowitz said with a flippant move of his hand. “You’ll hear about it in the papers soon enough.” The doctor and Ichirou stopped where they were, but boy, did they look uncomfortable.
“We got another letter from him,” Berkowitz said. “He’s officially taken responsibility for everything that happened during Bleeding Midnight, and he’s threatening to blow up the Überhaus.”
He what?
“You better find this guy soon, Ikeda,” Berkowitz said, leaning back in his seat. “The bastard’s starting to get bold, and I don’t like it.”
XXXIV. ADELRIC
They did it. Adelric didn’t know how they did it, but they did.
He wouldn’t have been able to imagine the relief that washed over him when the judge agreed to let him work with the police. He just about fell over when the judge announced his verdict, felt like crying tears of joy. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real, could it?
“You’ve been given an opportunity to reform yourself, Biermann, one that few men in your position get,” Kantzer had said. “Don’t waste it.”
That was what ran through his head as Berkowitz and Bouchard drove him back to the police station. Don’t waste it. Don’t waste it. Don’t waste it.
The judge was right: he couldn’t waste it. If he did, he was going to die.
“First things first: get you back to the station, make sure you’re under lock and key,” Berkowitz said. “And before you make a crass comment about it, it’ll be a better lock and key than last time.”
“I… wasn’t going to say anything about it,” Adelric said.
Berkowitz looked back at him, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.
“It’s true, honest!” Adelric said.
“He’s telling the truth, Eliezer,” Bouchard assured Berkowitz. “Not everyone is as sarcastic as your men.”
Berkowitz rolled his eyes and muttered things under his breath.
“Now, when we get to the station, one of our officers is going to interview you, just like the last time you were here,” Bouchard said. “Tell that officer everything you know, even if it doesn’t seem important.”
Adelric frowned. “But… I already told you everything I know.”
“You’d be surprised about how much you forget the first time around,” Bouchard said.
“Besides: you gave us jack shit last time,” Berkowitz grumbled. “Might as well try again, see if you actually have anything worthwhile in that brain of yours.”
Bouchard sighed. “Once again, Eliezer: your lack of bedside manner is extraordinary.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Berkowitz pulled the car up to the station, where someone who looked like a beat cop was standing, waiting.
“Looks like Zanetti’s going to be the one talking to you,” Berkowitz said. “Get out of the car, do as he says.”
Adelric frowned. “W-wait: you aren’t coming in?”
“What do you need us to do: hold your hand, maybe wipe your ass after you shit?” Berkowitz asked. “You’re a grown man: act like it.”
Adelric hesitated for a moment, then got out of the car.
The second he did, Berkowitz peeled out quickly, as if worried that Adelric would try and get back in.
Adelric looked up at the man in front of him: dark blue uniform, arms folded over his chest, suspicious look in his eyes; yes, this was a beat cop. One that didn’t look all that happy to see him.
“Y-you must be Zanetti,” Adelric said.
Zanetti nodded. “Come on: let’s get this over with.”
They walked into the building. Yet another person here who hates me, Adelric thought to himself.
Zanetti didn’t talk as they walked through the building. Didn’t even bother looking at Adelric. But, frankly, he didn’t need to say anything for Adelric to understand his feelings: he didn’t just dislike him, or distrust him, like everyone else there. No: he hated him. He acted like every second he shared the air with him was another second spent in hell. He thought that he might’ve been a cop he’d run into, before, but that wasn’t it: Adelric remembered every cop that ever arrested him, and Zanetti wasn’t one of them.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to have to deal with me, he thought to himself. I can’t imagine that this is what he wants to do with his time when he could be on the beat.
“Listen, I-“ Adelric began as they entered the stairwell.
“Save it,” Zanetti snapped, stopping and turning to face him. “You’re not one of the good guys. Not yet. As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of those monsters who murdered all of those people on Bleeding Midnight, kidnapped Hiro, and blew a hole in her knee!”
Zanetti began to walk up the stairs, again.
Suddenly, it came to him. There was something about the way he said Ikeda’s name: it was almost as if there was an extra spark, there. He certainly sounded like he cared more about her than those dead people he’d talked about, the way he got louder as he talked about what had happened to her.
Adelric followed Zanetti up the stairs. “Are you and Ikeda friends?”
“We have each other’s backs,” Zanetti responded. With just a touch of hesitation. As if he were trying to dec
ide how to phrase it.
He loves her! It was obvious, now that the thought had come.
“Are you romantic friends?” It came out of Adelric’s mouth before he realized it. Before he could stop it.
Zanetti turned to look at him, even angrier than he’d been before. “What is it to you?”
He didn’t deny it. “I-it’s nothing. You just… seem like you really care about her. More than just a friend would.”
Zanetti’s cheeks began to burn red, but Adelric was only able to catch a small glimpse of it before he turned around and began to head up the stairs, again. “The next question you ask about my relationship with Hiro will be the last thing you ever say. Got it?”
Adelric followed him up the stairs. Yes: he had a thing for her. And something told him that he wasn’t sure whether or not it was reciprocated.
Did she not like him back? Or, heaven forbid, did she not even know about it?
XXXV. HIRO
Hiro hobbled out of the hospital with the help of her brother, more than a little relieved to finally be out in the open, again. It had been a few hours after her surgery, and they’d determined that the leg was going to work just fine. It was starting to calibrate somewhat to her, though heaven knew she still wasn’t walking all that well. The leg now moved in the proper direction and in the proper way, but there tended to be a delay in its movement. It meant that she had to pause with every step, which was a little frustrating. Ichirou had gone out and gotten her some clothes: he’d grabbed one of her shirts, a coat, some underclothes, and a ribbon for her hair from her apartment, and with money borrowed from Berkowitz, he’d bought a pair of slacks designed to resist grease stains from her leg and a pair of shoes that, according to her doctor, would work well with her leg until she got used to it and was able to go back to wearing her old shoes. It was nice, to not be in the same, soiled underclothes that she was kidnapped in. She’d even been able to bathe, in a way: she couldn’t get in a bath as of yet (she wasn’t sure that she would be able to get out of one on her own), so she had to just take a rag and scrub herself down.
She paused just outside the door to the hospital and took a deep breath.
“What’s our first stop, then?” Hiro asked as Ichirou helped her into one of the two cars that waited for them on the curb outside of the hospital. It didn’t take her long to recognize it as Rosaline, Brook’s baby. Sure enough, when she looked up at the driver’s seat, that’s exactly who was sitting there, drumming at the wheel and humming an atrociously unrecognizable tune.
“The Überhaus,” Berkowitz said as he climbed into the front seat and Ichirou shut the door behind her. He headed for the car right behind Rosaline, where Commissioner Bouchard and his driver were. It looked like they would be the ones to take him back to the factory; hopefully, the foreman wouldn’t mind so much. “You and Brooks have a bomb threat to investigate.”
Hiro scowled as Berkowitz shut the door on his side. “I’m not going in there until we know for a fact that we aren’t going to get blown sky high the second we walk into that damned building.”
“Don’t worry about that, Ikeda,” Berkowitz said as Brooks started the car, making the engine rumble to life. “The Überhaus is being searched as we speak: they should be able to tell us if it was a hoax or not once we get there.”
She looked out the window as they drove off, past people going about their daily lives. For a minute, she found herself envying them. They didn’t have to deal with bombs or getting killed by some maniac out to change the world. But, she guessed this was better than being a housewife.
“Brooks, you’re going to want to go a little faster,” Berkowitz said as they drove. “I’d like to get there while we’re young.”
“Sir, are you giving me permission to break the law?” Brooks asked as they drove.
“Well, it’s either that or I’ll break your ribs.”
Brooks grinned manically. “With pleasure, then.”
Brooks put his foot down on the accelerator, making the car go faster and faster until it shot past the other cars.
Hiro found herself grabbing the handle on the inside of the door. Brooks was going to get all of them killed driving like this!
“Did I miss anything too important while I was at the hospital, sir?” Hiro asked as they sped through Königstadt.
“Well, we’ve got permission to have Biermann work with us,” Berkowitz said. “The nobleman’s council is trying to decide whether or not they should keep the Überhaus open, and we still don’t have much of a clue as to who the Archangel actually is.”
Hiro sighed. She’d hoped that they’d be one step closer to catching him. Especially after what he did to her.
“Any leads on Lord Dubois murder?” Hiro asked.
“Well, your brother was in on it for certain,” Brooks said. “We have a lead on the other one: we think that one was the shooter and not Aki, which should make you happy.”
Hiro looked forward through the windshield. “That’s great, Brooks. Can you look at the road, before you kill us all?”
Brooks rolled his eyes and looked back out at the road. “You know, I thought that you’d be a little more excited about this. It puts us one step closer to what the hell’s going on, after all.”
“I am happy; I just don’t want to die, today,” Hiro said. “Did Biermann have anything to say about it?”
“He gave us the name Klara Schultz,” Berkowitz said. “She’s a cyborg, not to mention the fact that she’s part of his old gang. She’s a Hazer and a Basher, and from what we’ve heard from some of our informants, she’s become the Archangel’s right hand man–erm, woman.”
Hiro bit her lip. Klara Schultz. Hadn’t Aki called that cyborg girl back at the Archangel’s base Schultz?
“She was one of the people down in that basement where I was,” Hiro said quietly.
“Which gives us a definite link to the murders of Lord Saaltz and Lord Dubois to the Archangel,” Berkowitz said. “I can probably get the Commissioner to pool a hell of a lot of resources to hunting this guy down with that.”
Hiro looked back outside the window, watching the city pass by her. She could only hope that they would be able to get him, soon: he was too dangerous to be out on the streets.
It wasn’t long after that that they reached their destination: the Überhaus. However, it was looking a lot different than it did the last time she saw it a few weeks before, when they came to start their investigation into Lord Saaltz’s death. A blockade had been set up around the building. People were gathered around the barrier, protesting: they were holding up signs, and were being held back from the building by a line of police officers.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Berkowitz muttered under his breath. “I was kind of hoping that these people would be gone by the time we got here.”
Hiro looked over at him, confused. “What do you mean? How long have they been there?”
“That’s the other thing that you’ve missed,” Brooks said. “They closed down a lot of places where people liked to meet in order to keep the New Dawn movement from spreading: the gymnasiums, some smaller theaters; pretty much every place people that don’t have a hell of a lot of money liked to meet up with one another. People are pissed that places like the Überhaus got to stay open.”
Hiro looked back out at the window, frowning. A blind person could see that it was a bad decision: they needed to have a united front, not make things between the nobles and the commoners even worse.
They pulled up to the curb in front of the Überhaus, on one side of the barrier, and got out. Immediately, the crowds began to shout all sorts of obscenities at them. She could see that it really peeved Brooks and Berkowitz (they looked like they were on the verge of punching the nearest protester) but Hiro found that she couldn’t quite be as angry. She hated to admit it, but they did have a point on one thing: they weren’t making things better.
“Brooks, give me your keys,” Berkowitz said as Brooks came over to help Hiro out of the ca
r. “I need to get back to the station.”
Brooks gave Berkowitz a look. “Why should I trust you with my Rosaline? You know how much I paid for that car?”
Berkowitz raised an eyebrow as Hiro got out of the car. Immediately she began to lean on the cane, embarrassed of the cane. Heaven, did she hope the press couldn’t see her: the last thing she needed was to see a report about how she was now a cripple.
“Brooks, give me your damned car keys, or I swear on all that’s holy, I’ll string you up by your toes and tan your damned hide.”
That was enough to convince Brooks. He tossed the keys over to him, muttering something under his breath that Hiro didn’t quite understand.
With that, Hiro and Brooks started heading up the steps to the Überhaus, while Berkowitz got into Brooks’ car and drove off to the station.
“How long are you going to need that cane?” Brooks asked as he helped her up the steps to the opera house.
Hiro could feel her cheeks beginning to burn red. “Just until my leg heals,” she lied as they reached the top of the stairs. “The doctor thinks I’ll be able to get rid of it by the end of the week.”
The two of them walked inside the Überhaus.
She had to admit: walking in there when there wasn’t an opera playing was a little strange. The main entrance, with its grand staircase and its massive chandelier hanging overhead, was completely deserted: no women dressed in ridiculously elaborate dresses, no men in suits with cufflinks worth more than her apartment; just herself, Brooks, and a few other people there for the investigation. She’d never seen it that empty, not even when Lord Saaltz was murdered and they ordered everyone to return to their homes.
“You boys find anything?” Brooks asked as they walked in. The two officers that were there looked up at them, confused looks on their faces.
“Well, we did, but it’s a little… weird,” one of them said. “We’ve got an Alchemist looking at it to make sure that it isn’t anything dangerous.”
Hiro bit her lip. She really, really didn’t like the sound of that.