Cabal of Lies

by Michael Anderle

“Once you told me you detected the power surge, I knew, but not before. You don’t spend thirty years on the frontier without the occasional crazy-ass terrorist or insurrectionist bomber coming at you.” Erik grunted and forced himself to his feet. He put a hand on his back, wincing at the pain. “But I didn’t expect that guy to go that far. He didn’t seem like the type.”

  “He didn’t seem like he was the type?” Emma snickered. “It’s difficult for you to go a whole two-week period without coming under fire. If you look at averages, it’s even more extreme. Based on your initial time on the force, attacks every other day wouldn’t be out of line.”

  “Getting shot at isn’t the same as someone using a high explosive around you,” Erik insisted.

  “You mean, like someone firing an entire missile at a hotel floor to kill you?” Emma replied. “Numerous incidental contacts with gun goblins seeking your death, many arising from otherwise unexpected escalations in routine police work, multiple targeted assassination attempts cloaked in terrorism, including missiles and Tin Men. Yaoguai, drone swarms, Lunar terrorists. If I approach this from a more quantitative manner, I estimate that—”

  “Okay,” Erik interrupted, putting up a hand with a grimace. “I get it. People like to try to kill me.” He turned and reached into his glove compartment to snag a medpatch. “They usually don’t purposefully blow themselves up to do it. That was unusual, even by the standards of my life.”

  Emma scoffed. “We’ll see how the rest of the week goes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Aug 27, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Residential Tower 231

  Jia stepped in front of Erik as they exited an elevator. He stopped and eyed her expectantly. She didn’t want to have to do it, but she needed to make sure her partner was okay.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked with a sigh.

  “That’s the third time you’ve asked me this morning,” Erik noted. “It’s not like my answer is going to change. I’m fine. I even wasted time going to the hospital, and they cleared me. I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep and several beignets in me since then. They might not have been made from Navigator recipes, but they’re doing a good job of filling my stomach and fueling our interrogations.”

  Jia frowned. “But you were almost blown up. Joking about pastry is more of a before-you- nearly-get-blown up thing.”

  Erik nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not what you just said. You said I was nearly blown up. Getting blown up isn’t like getting pregnant.”

  “What?” Jia’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What does pregnancy have to do with this?”

  “There’s no such thing as being half-pregnant.” Erik stepped around her. “The background checks suggest the brother’s clean, but he has paid a few fines for Victor in the past.”

  “It might have been better if you’d brought him into the station,” Emma suggested. “I could have flown near his flitter for better sensor potential. That might cut down on potential surprises.”

  Erik continued down the hallway so quickly his duster flared open. “It’s fine. If this guy was a terrorist suicide bomber, he wouldn’t be waiting patiently in his apartment after working a half-day at his job. No one’s that calm, collected, and patient.”

  “If you get me blown up, I’m coming back to haunt you,” Jia insisted.

  “The afterlife’s most uptight ghost.” Erik smirked. “That would almost be entertaining.”

  “I should figure out a way to haunt you now.” She looked down a branching hall, checking for hidden purists.

  “You do that.”

  The detectives walked past several doors before they arrived at their destination, the apartment of Benjamin Urie, the older brother of the deceased suspect. Erik didn’t waste any time knocking loudly.

  “NSCPD,” Erik yelled.

  Jia shook her head. Most men might reflect in terror after such a brush with death, but Erik treated the bombing like it was a mere inconvenience. He’d admitted to being more worried about the MX 60 being damaged than himself. Sometimes his bravery and dedication left him blind to the fact that in the end, he was still mortal. He needed someone to have his back—someone like her.

  That was what it meant to be a partner.

  The door slid open, revealing Benjamin. The family resemblance was obvious, even if Benjamin carried a few extra kilos and a palpable sense of weariness that didn’t match the manic energy of his insane if brave brother. At least Jia didn’t want to shoot him right away, but she’d brought both her guns if either was necessary.

  “Good afternoon, Detectives.” Benjamin gestured inside toward a small table in his dining room. A few stools stood around it. “Please take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?” He headed toward the kitchen.

  Erik and Jia shook their heads as they made their way to the table. There was nothing noteworthy about the apartment with its pleasant midrange furniture and banal holographic landscape paintings.

  Benjamin stopped, eyeing the kitchen for a moment before settling onto a stool with a look of resignation. “If I were a police officer, I think I’d have to drink something strong every day.”

  “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Mr. Urie,” Jia began. “First of all, let me say we appreciate your willingness to talk to us right after such a horrific event. Our condolences on your los—”

  “Don’t bother with that,” Benjamin interrupted with a snort. “We both know my brother was an insane psycho who killed himself trying to murder one of the top cops in the city. I always worried he’d get in some sort of serious trouble, but I thought the idiot would at least have the decency to get arrested for assault before moving on to terrorism and murder.”

  Jia nodded slowly and sat on a stool, her partner behind her. “So, you were aware of his extremist beliefs?”

  “Aware?” Benjamin rolled his eyes. “How could I not be? He’s never shut the hell up about them. The sacrifice for humanity! The degeneration of our pure stock! Everything was fine before he quit his job a few months ago. It was obnoxious, but at least it was manageable.” He shook his head. “He was always more into Purism than I was, but it was just like everyone else. Then he quit his job, saying he wasn’t doing enough to protect humanity. I thought he meant he was going to join the military, but instead, he started sniffing around for something more hardcore in Purism. I told him to stop. I insisted.”

  “Because you were worried about him hurting someone?” Jia asked.

  Benjamin shook his head. “I was worried about him getting a bunch of permanent antisocial marks in his records that he couldn’t come back from without leaving Earth. I figured he would snap out of this idiocy eventually. For one thing, his savings weren’t going to last him forever. It’s all fun to play revolutionary when you have the rent money, but he was running out of credits. I thought it was only a matter of time before reality crashed down around him.”

  Erik remained standing. “How did you know he was running out of money? Did he say something?”

  “He needed me to pay his stupid fines.” Benjamin groaned as if he were in pain. “I’m not into weird genetically engineered freaks any more than the next guy, but all he would do was rant and rave about all this weird crap he read on the net. I kept telling him, ‘Those idiots obviously don’t have jobs if they can write about this stuff all day. Worry about saving yourself before you try to save the species.’”

  “I see,” Jia replied. Benjamin’s statement matched the evidence they’d collected earlier in the day. Victor’s bank accounts had been rapidly depleted since quitting his job. Malcolm was in the process of examining all of his accounts for additional clues, but he needed more than a few hours.

  “A man doesn’t implant a nearly undetectable bomb in himself without help,” Erik commented. “Do you know of any friends or compatriots who might be sympathetic to his views?”

  Benjamin sighed and shook his head. “Look, Detectives, I would love to help you find whoever turned
my brother from quirky irritant to insane zealot. I suspected he’d fallen in with a hardcore Purist cult in the last month or so, but he would never tell me anything because I wouldn’t agree to his statement of crazy principles. He said I was questionable. His own brother!” He threw up his hands. “But what could I do? Purist cults are everywhere these days. At least they aren’t as crazy as Grayheads. I’m not saying they’re okay, but Purism is all about elevating humanity. Grayheads hate humanity.”

  “Both groups have tried to blow me up,” Erik offered. “I really don’t care about the ideology of the terrorists trying to kill me. It could be the Kitten Defense Brigade, and I’d still take them down.”

  The other man averted his eyes. “Sorry, Detective. I just don’t get it. My brother was a pain, but it’s only halfway his fault. If there weren’t so many Purist cults around, he might have come back from it. I feel like this was just bad timing.”

  “It’s not surprising,” Jia mused. “The Rena Winston case has acted as a flashpoint. Certain ideological extremist groups are attempting to take advantage of it to grow their organizations, but anything you could give us might be helpful. There could be others out there who are being swayed to dangerous and antisocial acts, or even the people who convinced your brother that trying to kill my partner was a good idea.”

  His eyes widened. “I remember! The Friends of Purity.” He bobbed his head, but it took a moment before his focus was back on the detectives. “That was what he called his group. I never met any of them. I wasn’t even sure they were real because I never saw any news articles about them. He’d always point me to these net videos, but I thought they looked fake. I mean, how could they be some big, impressive group if they weren’t on the news? It’s not like the media would suppress news of terrorists.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Urie.” Jia stood. “That should prove useful. Don’t worry about the media. We’ll handle them.”

  “If there’s any other way I can be of assistance, please let me know.” Benjamin stared at the floor. “I apologize on behalf of my family for my brother’s actions, and I’m sorry you had to go through that, Detective Blackwell.”

  Erik shook his head, his thoughts a few decades in the past. “Don’t bother apologizing. I know brothers can’t always control brothers. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Erik stepped into his apartment, his neck stiff.

  It’d been a long day of interviews, and Malcolm was pulling overtime going through data and systems. While it might help to utilize Emma more directly, the detectives wanted to minimize the risk of tainting the evidence with bad procedure since it was an official police case.

  There was something deeply unsatisfying about an attempted murder case that began with the suspect killing himself.

  “Anyone in here, Emma?” he asked, his hand drifting to his gun. “I’m tired and not in the mood for a fight.”

  She appeared on Erik’s couch, kneeling in the center. “I might have a good appreciation for your tactical capabilities, but I also understand that it doesn’t hurt to provide you useful intelligence before you get shot or blown up. If there was an assassin here, don’t you think I would have told you ahead of time?”

  “Depends on your mood.” Erik lowered his hand. “But Victor wasn’t exactly a pro, so I doubt they’re hiding here with advanced camouflage tech.”

  “Does the attack worry you? I must admit you seemed surprisingly unfazed, considering how close to death you came the other night. It wasn’t like one of your gunfights. It came out of nowhere.”

  “A lot of attempts on my life do,” Erik pointed out as he emptied his pockets, placing the contents on his bar. “The Lady’s not going to take me out that cheaply. She still has to toy with me first. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

  Emma raised a curious eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were so fatalistic. Is that what fuels your bravery?”

  “Nope.” Erik pulled off his duster and hung it up before heading over to his chair. “I think the Lady responds to those who take proper precautions. It’s nothing more than that.”

  “Isn’t that just another way of saying fortune favors the prepared?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Emma smirked. “And isn’t that, in turn, just another way of saying luck isn’t real?”

  “Oh, Luck’s real. She’s a real bitch, ready to get you the minute you’re not prepared.” Erik leaned his back in his chair. “The trick is to cut down the opportunities the Lady has to screw with you. She might toss the obstacle in front of you, but you can survive it.”

  His PNIU chimed with a call. When he tapped the caller ID, he grunted in surprise.

  “Damien?” Erik answered. “Something wrong? It’s pretty late for you to be calling me. I was going to give you a call a few days ago, but I got caught up in some recent casework.”

  “Is something wrong?” His brother scoffed on the other end. “Of course, there is. According to the news, you nearly got blown up. I was expecting you to call, but then you didn’t, so I wondered if they were covering it up and it was worse than that. Somehow you dying in an explosion didn’t seem impossible.”

  “Is that all?” Erik laughed. “Come on. You’ve heard about everything I’m involved in. As a friend recently pointed out, people try to kill me on a regular basis. Any death you can walk away from is obviously not permanent.” He paused for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “This was all far easier when I didn’t care about you,” Damien griped. “I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished, but also terrified by the risks you take.”

  “I’m fine. Really. We’re doing some follow-up investigation work involving the bomber. We’ll make sure that if he has any friends, they won’t try the same thing against me or anyone else. And don’t worry. I’m being extra cautious. You should know by now that I’m too stubborn to let anyone kill me so easily.”

  “I don’t envy you your job,” Damien admitted. “I’d tell you to quit, but I lost that right a long time ago.”

  “I do appreciate you calling.” Erik chuckled. “I’ll try to contact you after close calls in the future so you know I’m still alive. If we get lucky, I’ll never need to cause you to worry about it.”

  “That’s all I’m asking. We don’t have much family left. It’s all the more important to cherish it.”

  Erik smiled. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. Don’t worry, this won’t be the case that ends me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  August 28, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Police Enforcement Zone 122 Station, Office of Technician Malcolm Constantine

  Camila leaned over Malcolm’s desk, her head poking through a data display. “But you promised, Malcolm.” Her voice was low and husky.

  She licked her lips.

  Erik and Jia stood near the door, waiting patiently. They’d arrived about a minute prior, only to encounter the spectacle of Camila flirting with Malcolm. It was still hard for Erik to adjust to a known spy wandering around the department, even if she was on his side.

  But the stupid grin on Malcolm’s voice proved he was into her despite her deception. He would never claim he could read a woman’s mind, let alone a woman who worked for the Intelligence Directorate, but everything from her body language to her voice suggested she was into Malcolm.

  Jia cleared her throat, letting her annoyance be clear. “We need to discuss the case. You can go find a closet later and practice your anatomy.”

  Erik snickered.

  Malcolm reddened and looked up. “S-sorry, Detective Lin.”

  Camila stood, a faint smile on her face. “That doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea, but you’re right.” She stuck her hands in pockets and headed toward the door before stopping. “There wasn’t enough left of the suspect to confirm much of anything other than his identity in my initial analysis.” She shrugged. “That’s all I have for now. I’m coordinating with others to fini
sh the bomb analysis, but that’ll take more time. No one wants to send you on a wild goose chase.”

  “Don’t worry,” Erik replied. “I’m sure there will be a few more bodies and bombs before this is all over.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” Camila exited the room with a chuckle.

  Jia didn’t speak again until the door closed. “Your message said you had something important, so give us something useful. This was targeted at Erik, but that could be for a number of reasons.” She glanced over her shoulder at the door, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  Malcolm pointed to the data screen Camila had been wearing like a necklace earlier. “I’ve pulled out and decrypted all sorts of messages from the suspect to other members of his group. From what I can tell, there are two layers of membership. Most of them are just activists who go to protests, but there’s an inner group that only refers to each other using weird code names. There’s nothing concrete that proves they were planning a terrorist action or assassination, but there’s so much code and random flowery poetry references, it’s hard to tell. I mean, maybe ‘the sad crane skims the water’ means ‘Kill Detective Blackwell.’” He shrugged.

  “I’m more of an angry eagle,” Erik suggested.

  “Happy pelican,” Jia countered.

  “Now that’s just mean.” Erik chuckled. “What else you got, Malcolm?”

  “For the most part, these people are really, really, really passionate about purity,” Malcolm explained. “There are other encrypted messages that are surprisingly sophisticated. I’m still working on getting into those.”

  “Is this a matter of if or when?”

  “When.” Malcolm bobbed his head. “I’ve got this, Detective. These guys don’t know who they’re facing.”

  Jia frowned. “But you’re telling us you still have nothing at the moment.”

  “No, no, no.” Malcolm waved his hands. “I’ve got all sorts of stuff, just no direct evidence these other people knew what Victor was up to.” He swiped away several data windows until only one remained, showing a few lines of text. “But a little creative filtering and location-tracing have produced this.” He gestured at the window. “Three locations in Neo SoCal. The occupants don’t have police records or even fines, but they all have been associated with Purist activism in the past.”