Midnight

by Brenden Carlson

  “Then who does?”

  “Usually a dad. My dad taught me all about suits and ties and how to look good for anyone.” He dropped the ties on the bed and looked over Allen’s suit. “Oh, no, don’t ever do that,” he said, pointing at the blazer buttons. Allen had done up all three.

  “What? I thought if clothing had buttons, you used them.”

  “It’s different with suits. You always do the middle button, never the bottom one.” Roche undid the top and bottom buttons and reset the blazer on Allen’s shoulders. “Much better. You look good in a fitted suit. Well, it’s more fitted than your usual one.”

  “What about the top button?” Allen asked.

  “Only when you meet the Queen,” Roche responded, looking into his closet.

  “What queen? I don’t think I’ll ever meet a queen.”

  “Exactly.” He threw Allen a different tie, matte blue in colour. “It’ll work with your eyes. Like I said, it makes you stand out. Want to look good for Simone, don’t you?”

  Allen gripped the tie and blushed — figuratively — while Roche grinned.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Come on, Allen, it’s obvious. Weird that I never saw it before, but I never thought to look for those feelings in you. Anyone else clue in to your little crush?”

  “Well, I asked for advice from Paddy and Toby, but they were … less helpful.”

  “Seriously? You asked them for advice before me? Bit rude. I thought we were partners.”

  “We are, but I’ve felt we were more professional partners than friends.” Allen rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, but Roche took it well.

  “That’s fair, I haven’t been the most open with you. I do consider you a friend, Al. I’ll work on that. Being open ain’t my forte, but I can try. You need to relax, though. You’re as stiff as a board and half as useful.”

  Allen noted the shared idiom of the 5th Precinct’s officers. “Yes, Elias. I appreciate your helping me with this, but … don’t you have some personal stake in it?”

  “Personal stake? You’re making less and less sense these days.” Roche exited the apartment, Allen following.

  “Well, you had a date with Miss Morane.”

  “Interview. It wasn’t a date.”

  “And she always seems very keen to speak to you, even to be in your presence. She said that you’re a good figure for the radio program because people — her included — find you attractive.”

  Reaching the elevator, Roche gave him an inquisitive look. “Well, that’s something to ponder, ain’t it?” he began. “But anyway, that’s her view of it, and I think you’re skewed into looking at things from her angle. I ain’t interested.”

  “Truly?”

  Now Roche’s eyebrow went up. “Is there a reason I wouldn’t be truthful?”

  “I just thought, seeing as I feel that way, you might, too. Beautiful woman, tall and attractive, pleasant to talk to … If she could entrance a machine like me, it’s obvious human men would be attracted to her, too.”

  “Well, Allen, I ain’t like most people, as you know from having worked with me for a while. You’ve got to admit that, yeah?”

  “You’re correct in that regard.”

  They exited the elevator, Allen going to the car and Roche stopping in the lobby to make small talk with Yuri, who had just finished bringing his hot dog cart inside. Allen couldn’t hear their conversation through the glass doors, but when he saw Yuri lunging at Roche to embrace him, he suspected the old Russian might have been invited along, too. Yuri almost skipped out of the lobby to the car, and Roche indicated that Allen should get in the back. The machine complied, crawling into the small cramped spot behind the two main seats. The old Russian fellow sat in the passenger seat.

  “Mr. Roche, very nice thing to do. But I’m not good for party, very bad clothes and smell.” Yuri gestured to himself. “And not dressed for occasion.”

  “Trust me, Yuri, I know people. Leave everything to me.”

  Roche spent the better part of an hour gathering everything he needed for the party, driving across the city to the contacts he’d once had as a professional enforcer, but who now saw him as an old, misguided friend. The entire ride felt off, with Allen feeling distracted, though Yuri’s jovial attitude did help to offset this.

  “Doing all right, Al?”

  “As all right as I can be. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “I can feel that. Does it have to do with your conversation earlier tonight?”

  “It does.”

  Roche nodded. “Yuri, ears closed.” The Russian obeyed and put his grimy fingers in his ears, humming a tune to drown out their conversation. “Care to tell me?”

  “A long time ago you told me about lesser evils, about taking necessary actions to prevent worse ones from happening. About shades of red.”

  “It was only a month ago, but, yes, I remember.”

  “I was naive then, I was … overly idealistic, I suppose, about what keeping the peace meant. I don’t agree with the methods employed, who they’re employed by, or the direct results of such actions, but I can see the larger picture and what it’s led to.”

  “See, now, if you’d said this a month ago …” Roche sighed and slammed his head back against the seat’s headrest. “Goddamn it, Al, don’t buy into it.”

  “There’s nothing to buy into. This past month, while following you around or working with the other constables at the station, not once did I use my weapon, or get in a high-speed pursuit, or lock up anyone more vicious than a substance abuser or a violent drunk. I’d half expected police work to involve taking down cartels and Mafias and raiding speakeasies every other day, but it’s been nothing like that. At least not until that impromptu visit to Maranzano’s Kompound. Regardless, it’s because of you —”

  “Here we go,” Roche groaned.

  “It’s because of you that there is some degree of peace in this city, and that Maranzano hasn’t been planting car bombs or gunning people down in the street. By no means — no means, let me be clear — do I agree with anything you’ve done in my midst. But what you’ve done before now has helped in some way to keep this city from tearing itself apart.”

  Roche was practically biting his fist during Allen’s speech. “And here I was about to say I regret chasing down Masters and killing him.”

  Allen squinted at Roche. “You regret it?”

  “Does peace really matter if it comes at the cost we’ve paid for it? With the Mafia and some shadow organization running the show from behind smoke and mirrors? If Masters had kept going, he might actually have pulled it off and undermined the Hands’ control over the Lower City. And we might have a leg to stand on now.” Roche gripped the wheel harder. “Hardly peace if a simple trip to Maranzano’s starts to unravel it.”

  “All I’m saying is that it might not be a smart move to just up and leave the Iron Hands. You’re helping to keep things from boiling over. A skirmish here or there is preferable to the rise and fall of Mafias every other month, as in the ’20s.”

  “And a crime-free Manhattan is preferable to any of this. Sometimes I almost hope we don’t find this Vierling Killer, so he can keep ripping them and Maranzano a new asshole. Maybe it’ll give the 5th the leeway to actually make a difference, like they used to.”

  “Can you imagine the danger that would pose to the people of this city? You’re talking about starting a fullscale crime war! Elias —”

  “Look, you can work me through the logical loopholes and everything after the party. We’re nearly there. Cool it.” Roche waved his hand, and Yuri pulled his fingers from his ears and finished his song. “Have a fun time, Yuri?”

  “Da, ‘God Save the Czar’! Catchy song, yes?”

  “Yeah, rolls right off the tongue.”

  Arriving at Simone’s apartment building in Lincoln Square, the trio could see half a dozen vehicles parked in front. Whether they belonged to party attendees or other tenants of the building was anyone’s
guess. After calling up and being buzzed in, they ascended the steps, following the sounds to their destination. Roche climbed the stairs holding a bottle of 1915 Chardonnay in his right hand and a suit in a garment bag in his left. Yuri was still in his dirty clothing, and Allen carried a small bouquet of flowers. By the time they arrived at the fifth floor, he was panicking inside, his body vibrating in anticipation.

  They were greeted at the door by Simone, wearing a green dress. Allen was awestruck by her appearance. Roche was handing her the bottle of wine when Yuri pushed past them and made straight for the nearest table with food on it, sampling everything he could.

  “Friend of yours?” Simone said, jabbing a thumb at Yuri and grinning.

  “Yes, a very good friend. He’s going to need to use your shower,” Roche said. He held up the garment bag. “And somewhere to change.”

  “Let him go hog wild. A friend of yours is a friend of mine. Speaking of which, there are some other friends of yours here.”

  The apartment was huge compared to Allen’s or even Roche’s. The front door opened into a short hallway, with one side leading to a full kitchen and living area and the other to a number of closed doors. The kitchen had an island, floor-to-ceiling windows, and chrome appliances that outshone even Allen’s dome. The living area was populated by dark wooden furniture with white upholstery and quite a crowd. There were some familiar faces.

  Roche walked inside, toward the gathering. Allen was still rooted in the doorway, his eyes wide, entranced by Simone.

  “You all right, Constable?”

  “Yes, of course,” Allen said, jostling himself from his stupor and extending the flowers to her. “For you.”

  “Ah, thank you, Allen,” she said, smiling. “You didn’t have to.”

  “You look phenomenal.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had an Automatic compliment me before. This is a new experience. Care to explain yourself?”

  “I’m no regular Automatic, ma’am. I can explain more over some of that wine.”

  Simone led the way to the kitchen, looking perplexed but intrigued.

  Stumbling into the crowd, I found a few people I knew: Sinclair was there, along with Robins and Reynolds, the desk jockey. I was surprised to see Reynolds; it always seemed like the former two were the only ones running the station. They greeted me with less than sober cheers as I wandered over. Sinclair handed me a drink.

  “What the hell are you all doing here?” I said. “This is a party for RCA, not the 5th.”

  “Name the last time the 5th got out and had a good time,” Robins said, making a good point, like always. “Anyway, Simone didn’t invite us, our friend here did. Roche, meet Sebastian Morane. Sorry, General Sebastian Morane. The liquor makes me unprofessional.”

  The elderly man, who had been sitting in a comfy chair, stood erect and jutted his hand out. He was shorter than most of the others there, with a full head of hair, but his creased skin and wrinkles told of his age. Military history was rooted deep in him, and everything he did had the precision of a rifle. I put on a straight face and shook his hand, giving him more respect than I usually gave Robins.

  “Sir. An honour to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” General Morane’s voice was raspy from years of smoking and weak from age. “You served, did you not?”

  “Yes, sir. Second Battalion Manual Corps, Cleanup Crew.”

  “Trenchwarmers, eh?” Morane grinned. “Let me guess, nothing until Strasbourg? How’d you fare in that skirmish?”

  “Three bullets across the stomach. One perforated my lower intestine. Almost died.” I pointed to my gut where the bullets had hit.

  “Cardinals fix that up? I would imagine so, since you’re not in a wheelchair.”

  “Those women knew how to fix any wound. No one here can do what they did.”

  “They could pull a man apart and stitch him back together, and he’d probably run like he was fresh from the womb.” The general laughed. “I met your superior here back in the day, when he was running with the Second Bat, as well. He ran a Manual named Black Beauty. Fitting, right?”

  “Hey,” Robins said, half joking, half serious. “Different world — don’t you be saying that shit.”

  “Ah, cool it, Jeffrey. You can take it, you’re part of the old guard.” Morane turned back to me. “They don’t make us like they used to. Jeff reminds me of ol’ President Hughes: a tough bastard, and one hell of a leader. Not like this hack Coolidge. Son of a bitch thinks he can save the world with his tax cuts. Huh. GE lapdog if ever I saw one.”

  I hesitated. “Roosevelt.”

  “Huh?”

  “Roosevelt is the current president.”

  “Same difference. Who’s your friend over there?”

  “Yuri Semetsky. He’s been working the streets for a long time. I thought he could use some fun. He’ll come over when he gets cleaned up … speaking of which.”

  I excused myself and went to grab Yuri, pushing him away from the food.

  “Come on, let’s get you in some nicer clothes. Shower, now.”

  “So you’re not an Automatic, even though you have the same frame, and have, like, pseudo-organs?”

  “Right.”

  “So you’re somewhat alive?”

  “Correct.”

  “Jeez.” Simone sipped on her wine, leaning on the island. “And why are you and the others, like, on the down low?”

  “As it’s been explained to me, if people found out and felt threatened by us, it might cause issues both for us and for Automatics. So it’s best for us to stay under the radar and not give away our true nature until the time is right.”

  “But the people who made you didn’t let you go, there wouldn’t even be a risk of people finding out. So why did they let you leave?”

  Allen put a thumb on his chin, pondering the question. “I suppose maybe they felt they couldn’t keep us locked up. I couldn’t really give you an answer, but, even so, they weren’t the ones who told us to stay out of the spotlight. The man who sent me off did say as much, though. Commissioner Robins also advised me not to tell anyone willy-nilly. He even kept me away from the station for months until he felt I was ready to meet Roche. And when Roche found out, he seconded the advice.”

  “That’s so interesting. I mean, the police aren’t even supposed to recruit Blue-eyes for the Force. Same with the military, according to my father, since they only recruit Green-eyes, and really only for ordinance transportation. Speaking of which.” Simone looked behind her and pointed at the old man lighting a cigar with Robins. “That’s my father, General Morane. Just to make sure you’re in the loop.”

  “Understood. And no, the police aren’t supposed to, but the 5th is an exceptional precinct with exceptional people.”

  “Like Roche?”

  “Like Roche, yes.” Allen tried the wine himself and found it wasn’t to his liking, but he kept up appearances. “Your father … he’s retired, but he still seems to be serving, in a way. His manner is striking compared to the other veterans.”

  “Military officers are different than foot soldiers. The GIs get to go home afterward, but for Dad, it was a career. He’s been in the military for so long, it’s like he was born into it. I’m just lucky I wasn’t. I’d be a colonel by now if I was. I prefer journalism. Just as much death and dismemberment, but much less chance of getting shot.”

  “And I suppose you have a grudge against the military.”

  “Oh? What makes you say that?”

  “The way you speak about it, and about your father. He must not have been the most attentive with you growing up.” Allen shut his mouth a few seconds too late. Simone froze, staring at him, speechless. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, it’s just habit. I noticed there was some distance, and —”

  “I think that’s enough.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry,” Allen said again, making his exit from the kitchen.

  Yuri emerged from the bathroom in the suit, his olive skin now stripped of
grime and given a new sheen from the water. His unkempt hair was parted and combed, and his beard had the unnatural ability to straighten itself out without help. I went up to fix his collar and tie.

  “Roche, very good clothes!” Yuri said. “I owe you my life, anything you need.”

  “Nonsense, Yuri. You’re a friend. Keep the suit and everything else. I’ll go out and get you some new clothes sometime, because those in there are going to get thrown out.”

  “Da, very old,” he laughed, turning to enter the bathroom again and stare disbelievingly at his reflection in the mirror. “How I thought I would look in America. Very weird.”

  “Hardly anyone makes it here. If you’re not on top exploiting everyone else, you’re one of the ones being exploited. Anyone can get rich, but it requires breaking hearts and skulls. You were never meant to wear a suit here, Yuri.”

  “I used to wear suit, when I traded in building. Very large, sent much money back to wife and children in Russia, they very happy. I tell them I would make much for them to come here.” The old man looked down at his callused hands. “Now I can’t get home, all money in Russia, and I have not seen family in long time.”

  “You either get rich and go back, or you die here. Fucked, ain’t it? Corporate America rotted and spread it to everyone else. Well, almost everyone else,” I said. “Yuri, we’ll figure something out. Go have fun, talk to people. Forget about things tonight.”

  Yuri turned, giving me another hug before walking off to join the gathering. Passing by the kitchen, I spotted Simone alone with her wine and saw that Allen had rejoined the group. It glanced over at me, looking guilty. I started to head over, but was intercepted by Reginald Curio.

  “Roche!” he announced, making me jump.

  “Curio, just the man I wanted to talk to. Care to explain why you’ve been so keen to get in touch with me?” I asked.

  “I want to write about you.”

  “Nothing to write about.”

  “There’s plenty to write about! For one, I know you hate that name. You would never call yourself what you do in the radio program.”