Jia hissed in frustration and tossed her stun pistol to the ground. “Stop making me shoot your asses with lead!”
She ripped the slug-thrower back out of her holster and fired until she’d taken out the advancing bombers and their shields.
She whipped her gun toward the group heading toward the downed officer and pulled the trigger. Her gun clicked empty.
Emma’s drone swarm dive-bombed the remaining Purists, smacking into their heads and crumpling around them.
The suspects batted at the angry swarm, knocking a few out of the air, but three direct hits to the head of the bomber sent him to the ground. Erik and Jia managed to reload. The remaining Purists joined their friends after the detectives fired.
They were well away from the wounded officers.
Jia took several deep breaths and wiped sweat from her brow. A few seconds later, the three bombers exploded, blasting grass, dirt, and body parts into the air. The force slammed her onto her back, the collision knocking the wind out of her. Her heart pounded as she tried to blink away her blurry vision and sucked in air.
She shook her head, her ears ringing, and sat up.
Small craters marked locations of the explosions, along with the remains of the would-be warriors of purity. Erik knelt nearby, blood dripping from a cut across the side of his face. He had small pebbles embedded in his tactical vest like someone had fired a shotgun at him. The wounded officers from before had been pushed another couple of meters away, but were still breathing.
Jia stood and tried not to sway. She took several slow breaths to calm her racing heart.
Erik ran a hand down his face. “That was a pretty expensive way to stop the guy, Emma. A magazine for the TR-7 costs way less than one of those drones. That was most of my moon drones. Couldn’t you have just knocked the guy out with one?”
Emma scoffed. “I just saved a bunch of uniform boy fleshbags, and you’re choosing to rant about—”
“We just needed a few seconds to reload,” Erik complained. “I’ve got a lot of savings, but I’m not made of money.”
Emma chuckled. “Should I compare the price of the most recent modifications to the MX 60 to the cost of those drones?”
“Now, let’s not get lost in money details.” Erik jogged toward the wounded officers. Most were sitting up and conscious, and he spoke on the comm. “We need some more medpatches down here!”
Jia surveyed the carnage as she picked up her stun pistol. “I’m glad we took the first batch of suspects alive. At least we have someone to interrogate.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Erik hated fanatics.
There was a certain professionalism that accompanied a paid hitman or an insurgent trying to kill a man. People who sat around waxing philosophical about their glorious revolution had always bugged him because a lot of the time, he didn’t believe them.
He figured most of them just got off on killing people and were looking for an excuse.
The idiotic Friends of Purity couldn’t honestly believe assassinating a cop with a cybernetic arm and making some speeches would change anything. That suggested it was the excitement of committing acts of terrorism that motivated them.
Erik locked eyes with the woman sitting across the interrogation room table, one of the survivors of the house raid, and their third interrogation suspect of the day. The patrol officers who’d checked on the final location found another apparent suicide, although unlike Cortez, that victim didn’t bother to leave a note.
He was satisfied with their performance.
The Lady had given Erik and Jia the hard task for that day, but they’d gotten through it with no dead officers. Some were still in the hospital having their injuries checked, and one officer needed regeneration of her eardrums, but according to the doctors, she’d be back on the job on light duty in a couple of weeks.
Jia quietly watched the suspect.
No one had said a word for the last ten minutes. The suspect smirked at the detectives like she knew some deep secret they couldn’t begin to comprehend. That was the other problem with fanatics.
They were always so damned smug.
Erik snorted, breaking the silence. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve lost. Two of your people killed themselves rather than participate in your dipshit scheme, and your little suicide bombers didn’t do much but blow up all your friends. No dead cops.”
He slapped his left arm. “No dead Tin Man. We stunned or killed the rest of your friends. Now, if you want to have any chance of not spending the rest of your life behind bars, you might cooperate. What was your name again? Oh, yeah, Trina. Doesn’t sound like the name of a murderous terrorist, but there can be only so many Miss Evil Psychos out there, right?”
“You think you intimidate me?” Trina scoffed.
“I think you’re the one bound to a chair.”
“History will record you as an enabler and a species traitor,” Trina declared. “I’ll be remembered as a political prisoner. Our message of righteousness will spread. Martyrdom will only do more for it.”
“Yes, we’re all very impressed with your zeal,” Jia interjected. “What are you trying to accomplish?” She pointed at Erik. “Why target Detective Blackwell?”
Trina spat at Erik’s arm but missed. “He willingly mocks human purity.”
“We get it.” Erik shrugged. “You’re a Purist, but what you’re doing is completely unnecessary. Everyone’s already bought into what you believe. There are heavy laws against extensive genetic engineering, and even good people sneer at someone with a cybernetic arm. All you’ve done is thrown away your future with this crap.”
“It’s not enough,” Trina insisted. “Because you still think you can choose something like that.”
“Erik’s the only one in the 1-2-2 with a major cybernetic modification,” Jia pointed out. “You almost killed several pure humans with implanted explosives. Don’t you see the irony in that? Your version of Purism is nothing more than homicidal maniacs killing innocent people. That isn’t justice. It’s mass murder preceded by a petty speech.”
“We are at war for our very species!” Trina shouted at Jia. “Don’t you understand that? You’re not like him. You’re still pure.”
Erik folded his arms. “So, you don’t care who you kill? You sound a lot like the Second Spring. Have to break a few million eggs to make your omelets?”
Trina tried to stand, but the binding ties on her arms and legs kept her in the chair, which was bolted to the floor. She struggled for several seconds, glaring at Erik, her teeth bared like a wild animal.
“How dare you compare us to those transhumanist monsters?” Trina snarled. “You Tin Man bastard.”
“Just calling it like I see it.” Erik pushed his chair back. “This is fun for me. You all tried to kill me, and you failed. We followed up and you tried again, and you still failed. A Tin Man winning against a bunch of extreme Purists—it’s kind of funny, you have to admit. You’re not a great argument for total purity.”
Trina slumped in her chair, taking a ragged, shuddering breath. “Temporary losses are part of all wars.”
“So are proper supply chains.” Jia sighed, feigned pity on her face. “What I’m more curious about is where you’re getting the explosives. We’ve IDed everyone at that house. We’ve checked into your records. There’s no real trouble there, only minor brushes with the law. There’s no way people like you luck into those kinds of explosives.”
“Then you’re not as smart as you think you are, Detective,” Trina replied, the condescension returning to her voice.
“Maybe. But you know what I think?” Jia tapped her arm. “I think there’s someone else pulling the strings. No, I don’t think that. I know that. Helena Cortez mentioned the Inner Friends. You’re letting someone sit back and order you to sacrifice your lives. You’re just pathetic puppets with delusions of grandeur.” She eyed the lady in the chair.
“All wars have generals who order the soldiers.” Trina lift
ed her chin, managing to summon a tiny slice of dignity despite being bound to an immobile chair in a police interrogation room. “Why should this war be any different?”
“And where did the generals get their explosives?” Erik probed.
“As if I’d tell you anything, Tin Man.”
Jia stared at the woman for a moment and then looked at Erik with a smile. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Erik nodded. “You don’t know the answer to our question, do you, Trina? They just pointed you at someone, and you went. That’s not being a brave soldier. That’s being someone’s tool, and like my partner said, someone’s puppet. For all you know, this is just a weapons company testing a new product.”
Trina shook her head, panic creeping into her expression. She licked her lips. “I know the truth. I’m just choosing not to share it with you as enemies of humanity.”
Erik stood. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve got all sorts of records, messages, and accounts to go through. Our tech guys are close to cracking your best encryption, and then we’ll know who your little Inner Friends are. They can join you in prison and order you around in there.”
“You won’t win.” Trina’s lips quivered. “We’re on the right side of history. We will be remembered as heroes!”
“Yeah, I’m sure the right side of history is the pro-killing Erik Blackwell side.” He shook his head. “If you needed a hobby, you should have taken up penjing.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Jia rose from her seat and left the room after a lingering look at Trina.
“It’s the same crap as the first two,” Erik observed after Jia closed the door. “It’s obvious none of them have any clue about logistics or operations. Point and shoot.”
“It’s not a well-formed terrorist group.” Jia furrowed her brow in concentration. “Why not have a cell structure with individual cell leadership? Even after Victor’s failure, they could have salvaged something, rather than making a desperate last stand.”
“It feels like these Inner Friends don’t have terrorist or insurgent experience.” Erik glanced at the door. “Everything about this except their secure encrypted messages has been sloppy and amateur hour.” He grunted in disgust. “You’re right, a limited number of cells executing high-profile missions after training could have done more to spread their message and taken down more targets. The weapons were decent, but the tactics were awful. If they’d holed up in the house, maybe thrown up jammers and thermal cloaks, they could have forced us to clear them room by room and made it hurt a lot more. Even an impressive last stand might have sold things better.”
“You think people like those fools could get their hands on thermal cloaks?” Jia’s tone was even more skeptical than the words.
“As opposed to a bunch of high-powered explosives? Something small enough to be implanted into a person without easy detection prior to activation but that powerful?”
Jia shrugged. “You have a point. So, these Inner Friends are the key. They’re bankrolling and commanding the whole operation, but based on what you’re saying, they lack significant education or training with military, terrorist, or insurgent operations.” She shook a finger. “And they don’t understand that much about police capabilities, either. The encrypted messages are a start, but there are still too many clues here.” She narrowed her eyes. “It feels like the people behind this are feeling their way through it and just throwing money at a problem.”
“High-powered corporate pricks, maybe?” Erik suggested. “Not that it’d be a huge surprise in Neo SoCal.”
Jia nodded slowly. “That’s what I’m thinking, but not someone who is corrupt in the sense we’re used to dealing with. If they had real contacts in the underworld, they would have been able to put this together better, with hired pro killers or mercenaries.” She grimaced. “The people at the top of this are probably just as much pure believers as their foot soldiers.” She pointed to Erik’s arm. “Taking down a powerful symbol because he wasn’t pure enough would be a good way to sell their message that no one is an exception to their beliefs. We’re some of the most famous police officers on Earth right now, but I don’t have any hardware.”
Erik grinned and puffed out his chest. “I’m kind of proud.”
“Of being the target of a cult of ideological extremists?” Jia’s brows lifted in surprise.
“Yeah, because this is about going after me for what I’ve done as a cop and not because of other stuff in my past.” Erik shrugged. “I’m not all that offended when someone tries to kill me. Lots of people have tried these last thirty years. I’ll save being offended for when they succeed, and then only if it’s a cheap kill.”
Jia took one last look at the door. “If we can’t squeeze useful info from the suspects, we’ll just have to see what the other evidence tells us.” She pointed to her PNIU. “I assume you got a message from Camila about the time we started the interrogation? I told her we’d be a few minutes.”
Erik nodded. “Let’s go see what Malcolm’s squeeze has to say.” The two started down the hall. “Besides,” he told her as they turned a corner, “my girlfriend is a pure human— OUCH! You didn’t need to slug me so hard!”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Camila stood in the center of her examination room, looking satisfied.
The long exam table was empty, but a circle of data windows depicting analysis results and images from the blast sites surrounded her. She stood there, arms crossed, staring at Erik.
Malcolm sat in a nearby chair, poring through his own data windows and ignoring the two detectives who had just strolled in.
This time, the two support staff hadn’t been on the verge of making out.
“We haven’t shaken much loose from the suspects,” Jia explained. “So I hope you have something good. We’ve got a lot of momentum on this case now.”
After the initial shock of learning Camila worked with the Intelligence Directorate had worn off, Jia had begun to see the advantages.
She wasn’t just a trained doctor, but also someone with access to technology and additional skills the average coroner might lack. While she obviously wouldn’t blow her cover, that combination of traits could lead to surprising conclusions, just like having access to Emma did for Erik and her.
The coroner had every reason to aid Erik and Jia, considering that Alina was still trying to recruit them.
Camila stabbed a finger toward a colorful chromatograph display in a data window. “I wasn’t sure before, but now I am. I was wondering why we weren’t finding any bomb fragments.”
Erik stared at the display window for a few seconds before shaking his head. “That just looks like a bunch of dots, curves, and numbers. What did you find?”
Camila gestured to the data window. “I’ll give you the bottom line. All the bombers used the same explosive, Z-22, and it was clearly implanted in different limbs. Actually, I’d say less implanted and more…injected. There was no external casing or stabilization method.”
Erik scrubbed a hand down his face. “Non-stabilized Z-22? Those crazy sons of bitches. How the hell did someone convince them to put that in their bodies? Even if they didn’t know what it was, they had to understand it was an explosive.”
“Z-22?” Jia shook her head. “I’m not familiar with that. What’s so special about it?”
“You normally keep it contained in a special stabilization fluid,” Erik explained. “It’s very pliable and extremely powerful relative to its weight. It’s nice when you need to blow through a reinforced armored wall or something, but it’s suicide to use it under normal tactical circumstances. It’s too volatile, especially outside the stabilization fluid. The Army experimented with Z-22 grenades, and all they got for their efforts were a lot of unintended explosions and wasted money. Fortunately, they weren’t dumb enough to try to test that crap in the field.”
“You can’t buy Z-22 at your local commerce tower or even your local industrial tower,” Camila commented.
“It’s expensive and heavily regulated. I doubt they’d bring it from off-world, but the other thing is, when you examine the state of the suspects’ remains and the damage to the area, the explosions weren’t that large.”
Jia scoffed. “They blew people apart and knocked us around. This was hardly some kid’s fireworks.”
“Camila’s right.” Erik shook his head. “Given the size of those explosions, and even considering it was inside someone, it was a tiny amount of Z-22. That might explain how they were able to smuggle it in without getting caught. Everything else we’ve found points to our Inner Friends not having major underworld connections, but if they were moving a tiny amount of product, it wouldn’t be a big thing.”
“So, this is probably someone throwing a lot of money around for a small amount of an explosive compound.” Jia rubbed her chin. “It’d make sense that someone might not worry much about helping them, even if they worried about what they intended to do. Those suicide bombers were nasty, but they couldn’t level a tower. They could probably cause more casualties by showing up on a parking platform and opening fire with the rifles.”
“No, it was all about killing people like me in the flashiest way possible.” Erik grinned. “Blowing me up works to their propaganda advantage in a way shooting me wouldn’t.”
Camila’s dark eyebrow lifted. “How’s that?”
Erik pointed to his left arm. “Because there’s a good chance that a piece of my arm would survive the explosion. If they’re recording, they get the remains of a cyborg to pass around. I think it was supposed to be symbolic—literally blowing the impure to pieces.” He frowned. “The only thing I don’t get is why they implanted it. That was insanely risky.”
“Injected, not implanted,” Camila corrected.
“That’s even stupider.”
Jia pointed at the chromatograph display. “That’s why. Everything’s making more sense now.”
Cabal of Lies Page 25