Seattle, Washington,
2229
Some things never change.
Three of them surrounded me before I knew what was happening. It wasn’t even five in the morning and I could tell this was going to be one of those days. None of them spoke before contestant number one let lose with a left hook to my ribs that left me smooching pavement. It was just my luck that the biggest of the bunch was the one to slug me. I’d say he looked like a gorilla, but he was too hairy. He wasn’t without his charm though; after all, he didn’t bother stomping on me after I hit the ground, which was a nice change of pace in my line of work. He was even nice enough to help me off the ground; unfortunately, it was only so he could knock me back down. A smarter guy would have just taken the beating, but my Ma said I always did like to do things the hard way.
As he yanked me off the pavement I gave him an uppercut to the breadbasket that should have made his unborn children mess their pants. When he didn’t even flinch, I became more concerned and considered another avenue. “Oh come on boys, can’t we just talk this out like civilized adults?” I said, stalling for time. He introduced me to his left hand, knuckles first, and as I was getting re-acquainted with the sidewalk, my vast powers of deduction told me he didn’t want to chat. I was still seeing stars when he grabbed the back of my long coat and picked me up off the ground again with one hand and bounced me off the dumpster. By this time the ground and I were old friends and I was giving some serious thought to just hanging around down there, maybe building a summer house and planting a rose garden. While I mulled over some design ideas, two of them picked me up and held my arms while the third guy went to work tapping out a charming tune on my mid-section. My day was already looking up, because the biggest guy wasn’t the one doing the slugging this time.
After a short break to sling a few stinging insults my way, they resumed their rough-housing. The goon’s fists were crashing into my ribs like a herd of ill-tempered elephants. If not for the other two hoods that were holding me, I
would have tried to return a little of the affection. But don’t worry about me; this is how it goes around here. Organized crime is big, real big. It’s as much a part of the economy as legitimate business, and don’t listen to anyone that
tries to tell you different. In this particular part of town the mobs run the show, and I nosed around one of their operations too closely. They’re a bit sensitive about that kind of thing and don’t have an appreciation for my curious nature, which is why I got an early morning visit; they needed to send me a little message. It’s okay though, I’m just not myself without a full serving of uppercuts to start the day. I knew they wouldn’t hurt me too bad; after all I am an FBI agent. The punks are mean, but they’re also smart, and they don’t make a habit of killing federal agents; it draws too much attention. Still,
they need to keep up appearances, so they had to slap me around a little bit.
While they’re delivering their message, I guess I’ll use this time to tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Thomas Morelli, but my friends call me Tommy, among other things. I was born right here in Seattle, Washington. My dad
was an inter-galactic banker and provided a pretty good living for the family. He did a lot of traveling off planet, and helped set up the banking infrastructure in the outer colonies. He’s retired now and enjoying the quiet life with my mom right here in town. My brother became a micro-cellular surgeon; he was the smart one. It’s lucky he lives close by, because he’s patched me up more times than I can count, which, granted, isn’t that high. When I was eighteen I was off to college, then enlisted in the marines where I was attached to a number of elite infantry units as an intelligence officer. Just my luck, I was in service during the Planetary Civil War, but that’s another story. After four years of all the jolly fun provided by our fine military, I finally got out and came back home to attend graduate school. Not really my thing, but my dad
insisted. And much more importantly—he paid. I found a position with the FBI after grad school and I’ve been running a satellite office on this side of the city, down on level 1. Not fifty or a hundred stories up with the rest of the neon lights and pretty buildings, but down here on the ground, where all the real action is. It has its perks; no boss breathing down my neck and I can pretty much do my own thing. I make a little extra scratch in my off hours as a private investigator. Well, enough about me.
After the wiseguys had finished smacking me around, they left me in the alley. They sure were a thoughtful bunch; they didn’t even bother to take my weapon. Then again, they can’t use it. Modern issue weapons contain DNA lockouts so they only function for their owner, one of the nice perks of being a G-Man. Don’t get me wrong, part of me wanted to take it out and shoot them all in the back, but I didn’t need that kind of trouble right now, and I hated paperwork. What did bother me was the new guy, the one that was tossing all those punches into my guts. I didn’t recognize him, so they were probably using me as a little initiation for the new blood. Unfortunately he didn’t know the intricacies of the arrangement around the neighborhood, and his beating was delivered with a little more enthusiasm than I was used to. Lucky for me there was a tavern right across the street from my office, where I found myself about two minutes later.
“Hey Tommy!” the bartender shouted. His name was Mick. He was a good guy, built like a barrel and one hell of a barkeep. But then most Irish guys had a knack for such things. Stereotypical? Maybe, but all stereotypes, they say, are grounded in truth. Mick was as tall as he was big, with a head of red hair and thick mustaches to match. His arms were as big around as most men, probably one of the reasons there weren’t too many fights in Mick’s Place. Despite his outward appearance, he was a peaceful man and as kind as you’d find anywhere, especially on level 1. He treated each of his customers like family, and that kept the place pretty full most of the time.
“Boy Tommy, it’s only 5:00 am and you already look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” he said.
“Yeah, but I dented the hell out of the fender,” I said.
“Lisa, get Tommy a serving of eggs and steak for breakfast, and plenty of coffee.”
I really liked Mick; he knew just what I wanted to eat every time I came in here. As I sat down at the counter he slid me a double bourbon on ice. “For the cut on your lip,” he said with a wink and a slap on the shoulder, “We don’t want that getting infected.” I took a full swallow and then took my smokes out of my coat and laid them on the counter. I pulled one out of the pack and put it in my mouth. Mick was already there with a lit match; the perfect bartender. There’s nothing like
a few swigs of bourbon and a smoke to start your day, especially after being on the wrong end of a zealous, bare-knuckle beating. Normally I don’t take to drinking so early in the morning, but I bend the rules when I get my ass kicked before sun-rise.
I emptied my glass with another gulp and followed up with the coffee before finishing up my smoke. I spun around slightly on my stool and looked around the place. Mick ran a cozy joint. It was well lit but not too bright. There was a
fireplace on one of the walls and it was always burning, which was a nice touch. You don’t see too many old-fashioned fireplaces anymore, now days everything’s heated with the latest tech. The tavern was mostly empty this early, and it was
still pretty quiet, which was fine with me. After a good thrashing I just like to relax a little. I sat down in front of the fireplace on one of the comfortable chairs and started reading a holo-news feed on my datapad.
“The sun’s not even up and you’re already out on the prowl, eh Tommy?” Lisa said. She put my food down on the table next to my chair, then sat down across from me. I’d known Lisa Riker since I was three years old when our family moved to the neighborhood. I took a few moments to look her over, from head to toe. It was a nice trip. She was a nice enough girl, but probably not the type you’d take home to meet the parents. She had a body; boy did she have a body. She had
long, brown hair and and a sultry look in her brown eyes. Definitely not the type to take home to mom; those were my favorites. She started working here at Mick’s place during the war, which was just fine with me since it gave my eyes a little vacation every time I came in. Still, I had to be a nice boy, since I suspected she and my partner were an item. They just didn’t know it yet.
“Yeah Lisa, just on my way to the office, figured I’d come by for a little nibble,” I paused as I looked at her curvaceous body, “and some food.” Her smile told me she got the message. Most women would blush; she didn’t. I liked her more every time I came in here.
“You sure do seem to lose a lot of fights for a guy who was a soldier--and a federal agent,” she teased.
“Not you too,” I said, shaking my head. “Do you realize how rare it is for a soldier to fight up close anymore? This isn’t the old days where you shot weapons with a range of a thousand yards or less,” I said.
“Weapons fail,”she said.
“Yes they do, that’s why your typical soldier carries several. My rifle jams, I use a pistol. That jams and I use my knife. If none of those are enough then you usually have far larger problems than being a lousy fighter.”
“Alright, I believe you,” she said, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. We exchanged some more small talk before she went back to work. After finishing up my breakfast and thanking Mick for the bourbon, I started to cross the street to my office, when Lisa came out and stopped me.
“Hey
Tommy, I didn’t want to say anything inside, but I have a favor to ask if you
have time,” she said.
“Sure, come by the office and you can fill me in,” I replied.
“Thanks Tommy. Since I worked the night shift again I will be getting off shortly. I’ll come by after I get a little sleep if that’s okay,” she said as she kissed me on the cheek. She was staring at my face now.
“What? I know I’m no Don Juan but--“
She laughed. “No, it’s not that. I was just looking at that nasty cut on your lip from your fight; it’s already closed up. I forget how fast you guys heal,” she said with a smile and went back inside. With that, I was crossing the street to my office. She was right though, one of the greatest fringe benefits of my profession was the assistance of the latest tech to keep me alive when the shit hit the fan, which was often. The first thing I got when I joined federal service was nanite colony integration. They were essentially microscopic machines and were capable of repairing damage to my body right down to the cellular level, and they did it fast. In most cases as long as an injury didn’t kill me instantly, I’d be fit as a fiddle in a couple of days. The problem is I can barely go a full day without finding additional trouble; call it a character
flaw. I wiped the back of my hand across my lip and sure enough the bleeding had stopped completely. It still stung, but it had already healed more than a regular guy would have in two days.
After a small climb to the second floor, I found myself in the quiet of my office. It was a nice little place, three offices situated around a small living area. It had an old wood stove and a few couches. One of the offices was mine, off to the right. The other belonged to my partner, and the third was currently vacant, which gave us the run of the place. I filled up the stove and put on a pot of coffee before heading through the outer office door, stopping to take a look at myself in the mirror. My dad’s family is Italian, and my mom’s Irish. I got the dark hair and eyes from my dad and the relatively fair skin from my mom. And right now that fair skin was overflowing with color, which was unfortunately from bruising. I turned away from the mirror and continued on. Alyssa, my assistant, wouldn’t be here for another hour at least. I noticed the office lights were on and was surprised to find my partner, Eddie, already at his desk.
“Morning boss,”Eddie said with a smile. I wasn’t actually his boss; he was just a smart-ass like that. It didn’t take him long to see I had been in a scuffle. “Off to an early start I see. Who’d you piss off this time?”
“Some of the Dmitriev clan I think. They met me outside today and slapped me around some.”Eddie was shaking his head and smiling.
“Don’t usually see the Russians out on the prowl that early; they must be up to something,” he said. He was probably right. Every nationality under the sun had their own slice of the pie and owned their own little piece of town. Chinese,
Japanese, Russian, even the Italians were still in the game and playing for keeps.
“Such savage behavior, assaulting an officer of the law,” came another voice.
“Good morning Champ,” I said as my lifelong friend, who happened to be an android, came into the room.
“You know, Thomas, I have observed that you engage in fisticuffs rather frequently. Perhaps another tactic would be of benefit, considering your underwhelming talent in that area,” he said.
“I’ll take that under advisement, my friend,” I said.
“See to it you do, sir. I have not been keeping watch over you since you were six years old only to have you ‘put on ice’, I believe is the term, by a pack of knuckle-dragging primates.” I chuckled at his typically colorful wording, then turned to Eddie.
“By the way, I have a little side job for us. Can you meet me here tonight?” I said as I removed my hat and coat. “I don’t have all the details yet, but I’ll have them by the time you get back.”
“Sure thing Tommy. I’m gonna be down at the docks all day finishing up the investigation on that bust from last week, but I should be done with that by sundown,” Eddie said. “I’ll meet you back here after I grab a little dinner.”
Eddie was a good guy and I’d known him since I was three or so. We were neighbors growing up and we decided to work together after serving in the war in the same unit. He was Scottish by blood, which accounted for the light brown hair and the ability to drink as much liquor as he could put his hands on. He was lean and fairly tall, and just brimming with boyish charm, if you like that sort of thing. But when the chips were down, and around me they usually were, he was
always there to lay his ass on the line. He saved my life more than once during and after the war. Since we’d grown up together and served in the war together, we made a pretty good team and worked well as a duo. All told, I was a pretty
lucky guy to be working right in my own neighborhood and that made me willing to put in some pretty long hours. With the added perk of being able to customize my office and not have a bunch of other people bumping into me all the time, it was a pretty sweet gig.
“Thanks Eddie. I’ll catch up on some odds and ends around here and wait for the rest of the details on the job tonight,” I said.
“Keep him out of trouble, Champ,” Eddie said.
“I will. Don’t get murdered, Master Shannon,” Champ replied casually.
“Radio,” I said. Half a second later music started playing. At times like this, I sure appreciated technology. My ribs were really starting to sting, and my clothes were a mess after getting so chummy with the sidewalk outside, so I lay down on the couch and must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing I knew Alyssa was waking me up.
“You doing okay Tommy? Looks like you’ve been out playing with your friends already,” she said with a smile. It sure was a perceptive bunch I worked with.
“That’s one way of putting it,” I said as I forced myself into a sitting position. Alyssa had already prepared a cup of coffee and set it on the table next to the couch. She was the best; she had even lit a smoke for me and cleaned out my ashtray. As she went back into the outer office, I took the time to look her over. Unlike Lisa, Alyssa was more timid and shy, but she was every bit as nice to look at. Blond hair, long legs and an ample bosom made for a very nice combination. I’d thought more than once about having an encounter with her, of the carnal sort, but I always seemed to be getting beat up or shot at, which meant she spent most of her time patching me up. Aly moved to town while I was in the marines, so I didn’t meet her until she applied for a position with the FBI about the same time I did. When she heard that I was opening a small office right in our own neighborhood, she requested the post as my assistant and has been with me ever since. Her, Eddie and I had spent a lot of time cooped up in this small office together so we’d all gotten pretty close the last few years.
After a few more shots of coffee and another smoke, I was ready to get back to work. I had a pile of paperwork to catch up on. Somehow all the technical advancements in the world had never been enough to rid the world of paper, and I always
seemed to have a stack of it on my desk mocking me. All part of the exciting life of a special agent. About five o’clock Alyssa went home for the night. I’d had my face buried in papers all day and was happy to see Lisa finally arrive. We sat down by the stove in the living area.
“I need you to find someone,” she said, obviously uneasy.
“Sure; who am I looking for?”
“My dad,” she said. I laughed, at least until I realized she wasn’t joking.
“Paul’s missing?”
“Yes, for almost a week now,” she said.
“Jesus Lisa; why didn’t you say something sooner,” I said.
“I would have, believe me, but I didn’t know until today. I’ve been working the night shift for the last couple of weeks. I just assumed my dad had been coming home and leaving for work before I got up. Mom didn’t want to worry me, but she
finally said something yesterday.”
“Tell me what you know, anything that can help,” I said.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. He left for work last week and everything seemed fine, according to mom. He hasn’t been home since. No phone calls, no emails--nothing,” she shrugged. “I was going to call the police, but--” she just shook her head, letting the thought die.
“I know; they wouldn’t help unless there were some evidence of foul play. From what you told me, there isn’t any,” I said as I got up and rubbed absentmindedly at my goatee. It wasn’t like Paul to run off for any reason. I’d known him my
entire life and he was a family man through and through. Paul managed a warehouse here in town down at the pier, and he’d been working there for nearly twenty years now. Sure, he’d stayed out drinking a few times with his buddies,
but he always called home and let his family know he was safe. From the little bit I’d heard so far, I was plenty worried, but I certainly didn’t want to alarm Lisa anymore than necessary.
“We can’t pay you much,” Lisa said apologetically, interrupting my reflection. Poor kid probably felt bad since she couldn’t afford the kind of cabbage I was used to.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said to her as I stood up. “Eddie and I will stop by the warehouse and his usual hangout spots tonight and see what we can turn up. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” I stepped into my office to grab my coat and hat, and
then began the short walk to Lisa’s house. She lived with her parents close by, and I needed to stretch my legs anyway.
On my way back to the office, I thought about Lisa’s dad and what could have happened. The first possibility was that he’d split or run off with some other woman. But that was the advantage of working in your own neighborhood; you knew the people. I knew Paul wouldn’t do that, so I discounted the possibility until I had reason to believe otherwise. As far as the criminal outfits were concerned, nobody had a lock on this part of town, so there wasn’t an obvious place to start. This
area was still up for grabs, which meant that all the organizations were always trying to get an upper hand and claim the territory. The newcomers always had to be willing to be bolder and take some pretty big chances to get a piece of the action. That usually meant trouble for guys like me, who were far too stupid to mind their own business. Maybe Paul had seen or heard something at the warehouse that spooked him, or maybe someone grabbed him. The question was why. It gave us a place to start though.
I found Eddie back at the office and he was ready to go. We wandered downstairs and hopped in the car. The grav engine fired up instantly, humming gently as dozens of lights, gauges and displays sprang to life. We drove to the warehouse but parked a few blocks away; no sense in attracting any extra attention. We were across the street for about an hour, maybe two, when we saw a covered truck arrive and back up to one of the loading docks. The warehouse was quieter than it should have been. There was usually a night crew working, but these new players must have convinced them to make themselves scarce. There were two guys in the cab; they got out and started talking to one of three men that had emerged from the structure. All three men were carrying shotguns, and apparently not too shy about it. At least it was old tech, not that it would help me much if I took a dose of buckshot in the chest.
“Eddie, we need to tail that truck,” I instructed. “When they take off, don’t lose sight of them for a second. I’ll go inside and find out what’s going on. I’m even going to try and do it without getting killed. You know, just to mix things up.”Eddie shook his head and smiled as I moved across the street.
Right off the bat I had a knot in my stomach. I didn’t like the idea of taking on three shotgun toting hoods alone, but it had to be done, and unfortunately the badge I was carrying meant that it was my job to do it. Shotguns aren’t cutting
edge tech, but they are effective enough to separate a man’s head from his body, or punch a hole all the way through him. I checked my duty pistol. It was a standard issue Viper, a variable payload sidearm that had gotten me out of many
scrapes. The indicator lights told me that each of its half dozen varieties of ammo were full and ready for action.
I slid across the street and took cover behind a dumpster next to the warehouse door. I couldn’t hear anyone talking inside, but with a little luck I could slip in when the truck left. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and all five men came out. The morons were kind enough to leave the door open for me, so I slipped right in behind them as they gathered at the front of the truck. Once inside, I visually scanned the area. Nobody around. I confirmed it with a quick thermal scan, another nice modification to my organic optics. Unfortunately I wouldn’t have time to look over anything until I handled the three chumps when they came back in. I took cover behind a pile of boxes and waited. One of the three guys came in a few minutes later and it wasn’t hard to tell where he was headed. He was dancing
around so bad I could tell he was about to piss his pants. I needed one of these guys alive, and this was my pigeon.
He walked quickly to the bathroom and I was waiting for him when he came out. His shotgun was still slung over his shoulder and he never even saw the blow coming. I laid the cold steel of my pistol right upside his head. It was a satisfying
feeling; the guy went down hard and fast. Luckily I didn’t crack his worthless skull open or he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions. After his face-plant, I cuffed him and sat him up. I slapped him a few times to wake him up, then gave
him a few more for fun. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his own shotgun, a rather nice double barreled job, poked into his forehead.
“What’s in the truck?” I didn’t waste any time with small talk. I gave the shotgun a nudge to add some emphasis. His eyes were glued to it. It’s a good thing this guy had just relieved himself, or he would have been right then. He looked towards the door but didn’t say a thing. “Don’t do anything stupid. You yell out to your friends and the first thing I’ll do is open your skull up with a full serving of buckshot.”
“Guns—I think just guns—a sample to test the merchandise,” the scumbag said nervously. He was barely able to contain his anxiety, squirming around and eyeing the shotgun tucked ever so firmly into his forehead.
“Who’s paying the bill? Who’s supplying?” I asked impatiently. The guy said he didn’t know, and I believed him. If he knew anything, he’d be giving it up fast right now. I heard the truck start out front, and hoped that Eddie would have more
luck getting information than I had.
A minute or two later the other two thugs still hadn’t come back in. They must have known something was wrong—nobody takes this long to piss. The door burst open as I dove for cover behind a box to my right. A shotgun blast sent chunks of wood and cardboard flying over my head. I rolled to the far side of the crates and managed to take a shot at one of the men as he ran for cover. One barrel of the shotgun belched fire and sent a load of shot into his side. It peeled his ribs open like a Christmas present, and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground in an instant.
I moved again just as a shotgun blast from his friend slammed into the crate where I had been standing. I made my way through the maze of boxes and crates, trying to get position on the son of a bitch. With any luck, he was an untrained rough
like the one I’d thumped with my pistol. I didn’t hear him moving around, which meant he was probably dug in and about to shit his pants. Another shot fired; he didn’t know where I was and was taking wild shots trying to get lucky. My augmentations guaranteed that I could see and hear many times better than him, so the chances of him flanking me were pretty small. It was time to test this guy. My guts told me he was nobody, just some street punk who’d been hired to make a drop. I knew that tunnel vision would have hold of him right now, and he wouldn’t be thinking clearly. I crawled on top of some of the larger crates and made my way closer. More than likely, this guy wouldn’t consider an attack from above. He fired again, yelling frantically to his friends for help.
I had him. The boxes I was standing on were high, above the low hanging lights. He’d never be able to see me and I had a perfect fix on his location. The problem was that he was so keyed up from the fighting that there was no way I’d bring him down without killing him. Fine by me. I had a clear shot. I wanted to shoot him in the back and just be done with it, but the local badges tend to frown on shooting a man like that. Some bullshit about civil rights. I had to at least turn him around so I could finish him off without and avoid the internal affairs rats nosing around later.
“Federal agent, drop the gun now!” I yelled from my perch. And just as I expected he turned toward my voice and fired, buckshot pulverizing the boxes more than six feet below me. I fired the last shot in the scattergun. It caught him square in the face. Half a second later, he was on the ground, a 200 pound pile of twitching meat. I keyed the comm system on my wrist and called in the local PD. In two minutes I heard sirens and their distinctive, high performance grav thrusters in the distance. I had time to examine the two crates that were unloaded from the truck. Guns; the loser was telling the truth.
Nothing fancy, a small load of conventional pistols, a few rifles and half a dozen old-fashioned grenades. A small satchel next to it was full of money, nice and tidy in banded bundles. I took it; a little extra operating capital always comes in handy. The only other item of interest was a small glass case, which held a small electronic device no larger than an old silver dollar.When the locals arrived, I filled them in on the tip I’d received and what went down. Marvin Dent was the Sergeant on duty that night; we go way back. He was on the heavy set side with receding brown hair and dark brown eyes that were both alert and intelligent.
“Looks like you unearthed a real rats nest here, huh Tommy?” he said with a smile. “Any idea who’s behind it on either end?”
“No idea Marv, but you can bet they’ll be unhappy about a deal gone bad and a dead thug or two. If you guys can track these guns or any of the crew, let me know. Eddie tailed the truck when it left, so he may have more information on who was behind it,” I said.
“Well at least one of them is alive; that’s pretty good for you,” Marv smiled as he took down some notes. “The third guy—that shotgun blast did a number on him. We found one of his eyes three paces away,” he said.
“I almost shot him in the back,” I said honestly.
“You should have; not nearly as messy,” Marv replied without hesitation.
The sergeant knelt down and examined the open crates. “Not a bad bit of hardware here. One of them told you this was just a sample shipment?”
“Yeah, which means there are a lot more out there. I’ll get you full access to the Bureau’s resources to track those guns Marv, just send over the serial numbers when you get a chance. We can at least be thankful it’s all old-school hardware.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, this device was in the crate as well? Looks pretty high tech, and there are no company logos on it or anything else to identify it. Maybe it’s a prototype of some kind. What do you make of it?”
He grabbed it and held it up to the light, giving it a slow and thorough visual examination. “Not sure what it is Tom, guess it could be just about anything. I’m a cop, not a techie. How do you want to handle it?”
“Go ahead and record it as evidence and then sign it out to me. I’ll run it over to my brother and see if he can give me any information that might help. He’s usually a good place to start for anything related to tech.”
“You got it Tommy. Go ahead and get out of here, we’ll clean this up. I’ll find you at the office if we track anything down,” he said.
“Thanks Marv, but before I go I need to check Paul’s office, maybe there’s something in there that will tip me off about what happened to him.”
I went into Paul’s office and gave it the works. I checked all of his files, went through his desk and looked for any notes or other clues, even checking the garbage. As I stood back up I noticed a few spots of something on one of the walls and the floor just beneath it. It was red and thick, and a quick pass with my scanner revealed it was blood. I logged the DNA profile and continued the search. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of blood and it was already dry, so it had probably been there for at least twelve hours.
I found a bottle of unopened Scotch is the desk drawer, opened it and banged down a few good swallows to calm my nerves while I considered my next step. One of his haunts, the Buzzsaw Bar and Grill, was just down the road. He
liked to spend time there with his buddies after a long day at work. It was as good a place to start as any. I filled Marv in on what I’d found and said my goodbyes.
I hit the Buzzsaw, walked inside and found the place was fairly busy. The bartender, Steve, saw me as I came in and looked nervous right off.
“Relax Steve, I’m just here on a private matter,” I said. The place was a second home to a lot of working class guys, most of them busting their humps at the warehouses in this part of town. A lot of his customers liked to spend time with the ladies after a long day, so Steve let the pros hang out in the bar as an added benefit to his customers. He wasn’t a pimp, but he let them conduct their business safely.
“How can I help you Tom?” Steve asked as he toweled off the bar where I sat down. I ordered up a double vodka on the rocks and lit a smoke, then turned and looked around the place. Nothing caught my eye except for of the customers who had been eyeing me since I came in, and trying to look discreet about it, without looking like she was trying to be discreet about it. I finished up my smoke and lit another.
“Steve, you know Paul Riker, right?” I asked.
“Course Tommy, he’s one of my best regulars. Haven’t seen him around in almost a week though,” he said.
“Who’s that girl over there?” I asked as I nodded toward the curious customer that had been keeping tabs on me.
“That’s Megan, spends a lot of time in here. She’s a fresh recruit out of the academy and just joined the Seattle PD. She knows Paul well enough; they’ve spent a lot of time talking. Shall I ask her to come on over Tom?” he asked. I shook my head and made my way over to her. She looked up at me as I sat down; she was nervous.
“Relax Megan; I’m not here to make trouble. I just need some information.” I could see she relaxed a little bit, but she was still pretty wound up.
“And you are?”she asked.
“Name’s Tommy, but I tend to rub people the wrong way, so I usually let my pal Ben do the talking,” I said as I slid a crisp fifty dollar bill across the table. It got a smile out of her at least, and she relaxed visibly. “I’m looking for someone Megan, Paul Riker. I hear you know him.”
“Yes I do, but he hasn’t been in here in about a week,” she said.
“I heard that too. I think he might be in trouble Megan, big trouble. I need to find him. Steve tells me you two are plenty tight, so if you know where he is, it would be best for you to tell me; his family is worried sick.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen him in about a week,” she said calmly.
“If he contacts you, please notify me right away,” I said as I slid my card across the table. “If you have a roommate, please let her know so that if he comes by—“
“I live alone,”she said evenly as she got up. “And I’m off for the rest of the night, so if you’ll excuse me Mr. Morelli,” she finished. The alarms started going off in my head. I hadn’t told her my last name, which she’d just used. And my card was face down when I slid it across the table, and she hadn’t even looked at it when she picked it up and stuffed it in her purse. I didn’t recall meeting her before, but anything’s possible. But the young officer was attractive enough that I’d have made it a point not to forget a first encounter.
“Fair enough; I’ll walk you home,” I said as I got up. I expected her to protest, but she didn’t. She also didn’t say a word the five blocks we walked to her apartment building. She went inside and I made my way to the closest cab after
noting her address in my datapad. It was after midnight already. What a way to spend a Saturday night. It had been a long day and I was close to dozing off by the time the cab descended from the bright lights into the relative darkness of level 1. I settled up my tab with the cabbie and headed into Mick’s place. As usual he greeted me with a shout. “Can I get you a bourbon Tommy?”
“Just coffee,” I said with a weary smile, “Make it a double. Hey Mick, can you do me a favor and ring my office? If Eddie is there, tell him to stay put and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said.
“Sure thing Tommy,” Mick said. He was pouring my java with one hand and activating the comm system with the other. It was pretty crowded, but it didn’t take me long to find Lisa. She looked good tonight, like always. I made my way to the back room, which Mick kept closed off so the help had a quiet place to take their breaks. It was a fairly small but well furnished room with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. I took a seat and removed my hat and coat before lighting a smoke. Lisa came in a few minutes later and sat down. Mick came in right behind her and dropped off my coffee.
“You take your time Lisa; I got things covered out here,” he said. “I got in touch with Eddie; he’ll be waiting for you in the office Tommy.”
I took a generous swallow of coffee and a draw off my smoke. It felt good. Gunfights tend to cause some tension. I filled Lisa in on what had happened. She looked shocked. I gave her a minute to absorb it all while I had another swallow of java and finished off my cigarette.
“I—I’m so sorry Tommy; I had no idea it would be something like that. If you had gotten shot or—“ she was almost in tears and couldn’t complete the sentence.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s all part of the job. Besides, after getting beaten up this morning, I sat around all day and got bored. I needed something to spice up my night,” I said smiling, trying to make her feel a little better about it. “But listen, you and your mom should probably blow town for a while,” I said as I pulled out the wad of cash from the warehouse and peeled off more than enough money to set them up.
“Thanks Tommy; I don’t know what to say. But I can’t leave Mick without the help all weekend either,” she said.
“I tell you what Lisa, you can stay at my apartment if you want. I never stay there so you’ll have the place to yourself. If you don’t want to stay alone you are welcome to stay in the office. It’s got a shower, bed and kitchen in the back,” I finished. “But get your mom someplace safe, and do it fast.”
“Thanks Tommy, I--” she had tears welling up in her eyes now. I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down.“Look, it’ll be okay Lisa. Eddie and I will be working this case around the clock until it’s settled, and I’ll have the boys at the bureau run down these leads. Don’t worry about my fee. Since they took a few shots at me it’s now an official investigation. Take your time and think about where you want to stay, then stop by the office tomorrow and let me know,” I finished. I took a few more minutes to get her calmed down and then made my way back to the office. I locked the door behind me as I worked my way up the stairs. The place was quiet, and I found Eddie in the living area next
to the stove, gulping a cup of coffee. I pulled out the pile of cash I’d taken from the warehouse and threw half of it on the table. Eddie picked it up and put it in his pocket without a word, but not without a smile.
“Heya Tommy, here’s the address where the truck ended up,” he said as he slid a piece of paper across the table. I saw the address and couldn’t help but sigh.
“Ahhhh, shit,” was all I could get out.
***
2229
Some things never change.
Three of them surrounded me before I knew what was happening. It wasn’t even five in the morning and I could tell this was going to be one of those days. None of them spoke before contestant number one let lose with a left hook to my ribs that left me smooching pavement. It was just my luck that the biggest of the bunch was the one to slug me. I’d say he looked like a gorilla, but he was too hairy. He wasn’t without his charm though; after all, he didn’t bother stomping on me after I hit the ground, which was a nice change of pace in my line of work. He was even nice enough to help me off the ground; unfortunately, it was only so he could knock me back down. A smarter guy would have just taken the beating, but my Ma said I always did like to do things the hard way.
As he yanked me off the pavement I gave him an uppercut to the breadbasket that should have made his unborn children mess their pants. When he didn’t even flinch, I became more concerned and considered another avenue. “Oh come on boys, can’t we just talk this out like civilized adults?” I said, stalling for time. He introduced me to his left hand, knuckles first, and as I was getting re-acquainted with the sidewalk, my vast powers of deduction told me he didn’t want to chat. I was still seeing stars when he grabbed the back of my long coat and picked me up off the ground again with one hand and bounced me off the dumpster. By this time the ground and I were old friends and I was giving some serious thought to just hanging around down there, maybe building a summer house and planting a rose garden. While I mulled over some design ideas, two of them picked me up and held my arms while the third guy went to work tapping out a charming tune on my mid-section. My day was already looking up, because the biggest guy wasn’t the one doing the slugging this time.
After a short break to sling a few stinging insults my way, they resumed their rough-housing. The goon’s fists were crashing into my ribs like a herd of ill-tempered elephants. If not for the other two hoods that were holding me, I
would have tried to return a little of the affection. But don’t worry about me; this is how it goes around here. Organized crime is big, real big. It’s as much a part of the economy as legitimate business, and don’t listen to anyone that
tries to tell you different. In this particular part of town the mobs run the show, and I nosed around one of their operations too closely. They’re a bit sensitive about that kind of thing and don’t have an appreciation for my curious nature, which is why I got an early morning visit; they needed to send me a little message. It’s okay though, I’m just not myself without a full serving of uppercuts to start the day. I knew they wouldn’t hurt me too bad; after all I am an FBI agent. The punks are mean, but they’re also smart, and they don’t make a habit of killing federal agents; it draws too much attention. Still,
they need to keep up appearances, so they had to slap me around a little bit.
While they’re delivering their message, I guess I’ll use this time to tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Thomas Morelli, but my friends call me Tommy, among other things. I was born right here in Seattle, Washington. My dad
was an inter-galactic banker and provided a pretty good living for the family. He did a lot of traveling off planet, and helped set up the banking infrastructure in the outer colonies. He’s retired now and enjoying the quiet life with my mom right here in town. My brother became a micro-cellular surgeon; he was the smart one. It’s lucky he lives close by, because he’s patched me up more times than I can count, which, granted, isn’t that high. When I was eighteen I was off to college, then enlisted in the marines where I was attached to a number of elite infantry units as an intelligence officer. Just my luck, I was in service during the Planetary Civil War, but that’s another story. After four years of all the jolly fun provided by our fine military, I finally got out and came back home to attend graduate school. Not really my thing, but my dad
insisted. And much more importantly—he paid. I found a position with the FBI after grad school and I’ve been running a satellite office on this side of the city, down on level 1. Not fifty or a hundred stories up with the rest of the neon lights and pretty buildings, but down here on the ground, where all the real action is. It has its perks; no boss breathing down my neck and I can pretty much do my own thing. I make a little extra scratch in my off hours as a private investigator. Well, enough about me.
After the wiseguys had finished smacking me around, they left me in the alley. They sure were a thoughtful bunch; they didn’t even bother to take my weapon. Then again, they can’t use it. Modern issue weapons contain DNA lockouts so they only function for their owner, one of the nice perks of being a G-Man. Don’t get me wrong, part of me wanted to take it out and shoot them all in the back, but I didn’t need that kind of trouble right now, and I hated paperwork. What did bother me was the new guy, the one that was tossing all those punches into my guts. I didn’t recognize him, so they were probably using me as a little initiation for the new blood. Unfortunately he didn’t know the intricacies of the arrangement around the neighborhood, and his beating was delivered with a little more enthusiasm than I was used to. Lucky for me there was a tavern right across the street from my office, where I found myself about two minutes later.
“Hey Tommy!” the bartender shouted. His name was Mick. He was a good guy, built like a barrel and one hell of a barkeep. But then most Irish guys had a knack for such things. Stereotypical? Maybe, but all stereotypes, they say, are grounded in truth. Mick was as tall as he was big, with a head of red hair and thick mustaches to match. His arms were as big around as most men, probably one of the reasons there weren’t too many fights in Mick’s Place. Despite his outward appearance, he was a peaceful man and as kind as you’d find anywhere, especially on level 1. He treated each of his customers like family, and that kept the place pretty full most of the time.
“Boy Tommy, it’s only 5:00 am and you already look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” he said.
“Yeah, but I dented the hell out of the fender,” I said.
“Lisa, get Tommy a serving of eggs and steak for breakfast, and plenty of coffee.”
I really liked Mick; he knew just what I wanted to eat every time I came in here. As I sat down at the counter he slid me a double bourbon on ice. “For the cut on your lip,” he said with a wink and a slap on the shoulder, “We don’t want that getting infected.” I took a full swallow and then took my smokes out of my coat and laid them on the counter. I pulled one out of the pack and put it in my mouth. Mick was already there with a lit match; the perfect bartender. There’s nothing like
a few swigs of bourbon and a smoke to start your day, especially after being on the wrong end of a zealous, bare-knuckle beating. Normally I don’t take to drinking so early in the morning, but I bend the rules when I get my ass kicked before sun-rise.
I emptied my glass with another gulp and followed up with the coffee before finishing up my smoke. I spun around slightly on my stool and looked around the place. Mick ran a cozy joint. It was well lit but not too bright. There was a
fireplace on one of the walls and it was always burning, which was a nice touch. You don’t see too many old-fashioned fireplaces anymore, now days everything’s heated with the latest tech. The tavern was mostly empty this early, and it was
still pretty quiet, which was fine with me. After a good thrashing I just like to relax a little. I sat down in front of the fireplace on one of the comfortable chairs and started reading a holo-news feed on my datapad.
“The sun’s not even up and you’re already out on the prowl, eh Tommy?” Lisa said. She put my food down on the table next to my chair, then sat down across from me. I’d known Lisa Riker since I was three years old when our family moved to the neighborhood. I took a few moments to look her over, from head to toe. It was a nice trip. She was a nice enough girl, but probably not the type you’d take home to meet the parents. She had a body; boy did she have a body. She had
long, brown hair and and a sultry look in her brown eyes. Definitely not the type to take home to mom; those were my favorites. She started working here at Mick’s place during the war, which was just fine with me since it gave my eyes a little vacation every time I came in. Still, I had to be a nice boy, since I suspected she and my partner were an item. They just didn’t know it yet.
“Yeah Lisa, just on my way to the office, figured I’d come by for a little nibble,” I paused as I looked at her curvaceous body, “and some food.” Her smile told me she got the message. Most women would blush; she didn’t. I liked her more every time I came in here.
“You sure do seem to lose a lot of fights for a guy who was a soldier--and a federal agent,” she teased.
“Not you too,” I said, shaking my head. “Do you realize how rare it is for a soldier to fight up close anymore? This isn’t the old days where you shot weapons with a range of a thousand yards or less,” I said.
“Weapons fail,”she said.
“Yes they do, that’s why your typical soldier carries several. My rifle jams, I use a pistol. That jams and I use my knife. If none of those are enough then you usually have far larger problems than being a lousy fighter.”
“Alright, I believe you,” she said, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. We exchanged some more small talk before she went back to work. After finishing up my breakfast and thanking Mick for the bourbon, I started to cross the street to my office, when Lisa came out and stopped me.
“Hey
Tommy, I didn’t want to say anything inside, but I have a favor to ask if you
have time,” she said.
“Sure, come by the office and you can fill me in,” I replied.
“Thanks Tommy. Since I worked the night shift again I will be getting off shortly. I’ll come by after I get a little sleep if that’s okay,” she said as she kissed me on the cheek. She was staring at my face now.
“What? I know I’m no Don Juan but--“
She laughed. “No, it’s not that. I was just looking at that nasty cut on your lip from your fight; it’s already closed up. I forget how fast you guys heal,” she said with a smile and went back inside. With that, I was crossing the street to my office. She was right though, one of the greatest fringe benefits of my profession was the assistance of the latest tech to keep me alive when the shit hit the fan, which was often. The first thing I got when I joined federal service was nanite colony integration. They were essentially microscopic machines and were capable of repairing damage to my body right down to the cellular level, and they did it fast. In most cases as long as an injury didn’t kill me instantly, I’d be fit as a fiddle in a couple of days. The problem is I can barely go a full day without finding additional trouble; call it a character
flaw. I wiped the back of my hand across my lip and sure enough the bleeding had stopped completely. It still stung, but it had already healed more than a regular guy would have in two days.
After a small climb to the second floor, I found myself in the quiet of my office. It was a nice little place, three offices situated around a small living area. It had an old wood stove and a few couches. One of the offices was mine, off to the right. The other belonged to my partner, and the third was currently vacant, which gave us the run of the place. I filled up the stove and put on a pot of coffee before heading through the outer office door, stopping to take a look at myself in the mirror. My dad’s family is Italian, and my mom’s Irish. I got the dark hair and eyes from my dad and the relatively fair skin from my mom. And right now that fair skin was overflowing with color, which was unfortunately from bruising. I turned away from the mirror and continued on. Alyssa, my assistant, wouldn’t be here for another hour at least. I noticed the office lights were on and was surprised to find my partner, Eddie, already at his desk.
“Morning boss,”Eddie said with a smile. I wasn’t actually his boss; he was just a smart-ass like that. It didn’t take him long to see I had been in a scuffle. “Off to an early start I see. Who’d you piss off this time?”
“Some of the Dmitriev clan I think. They met me outside today and slapped me around some.”Eddie was shaking his head and smiling.
“Don’t usually see the Russians out on the prowl that early; they must be up to something,” he said. He was probably right. Every nationality under the sun had their own slice of the pie and owned their own little piece of town. Chinese,
Japanese, Russian, even the Italians were still in the game and playing for keeps.
“Such savage behavior, assaulting an officer of the law,” came another voice.
“Good morning Champ,” I said as my lifelong friend, who happened to be an android, came into the room.
“You know, Thomas, I have observed that you engage in fisticuffs rather frequently. Perhaps another tactic would be of benefit, considering your underwhelming talent in that area,” he said.
“I’ll take that under advisement, my friend,” I said.
“See to it you do, sir. I have not been keeping watch over you since you were six years old only to have you ‘put on ice’, I believe is the term, by a pack of knuckle-dragging primates.” I chuckled at his typically colorful wording, then turned to Eddie.
“By the way, I have a little side job for us. Can you meet me here tonight?” I said as I removed my hat and coat. “I don’t have all the details yet, but I’ll have them by the time you get back.”
“Sure thing Tommy. I’m gonna be down at the docks all day finishing up the investigation on that bust from last week, but I should be done with that by sundown,” Eddie said. “I’ll meet you back here after I grab a little dinner.”
Eddie was a good guy and I’d known him since I was three or so. We were neighbors growing up and we decided to work together after serving in the war in the same unit. He was Scottish by blood, which accounted for the light brown hair and the ability to drink as much liquor as he could put his hands on. He was lean and fairly tall, and just brimming with boyish charm, if you like that sort of thing. But when the chips were down, and around me they usually were, he was
always there to lay his ass on the line. He saved my life more than once during and after the war. Since we’d grown up together and served in the war together, we made a pretty good team and worked well as a duo. All told, I was a pretty
lucky guy to be working right in my own neighborhood and that made me willing to put in some pretty long hours. With the added perk of being able to customize my office and not have a bunch of other people bumping into me all the time, it was a pretty sweet gig.
“Thanks Eddie. I’ll catch up on some odds and ends around here and wait for the rest of the details on the job tonight,” I said.
“Keep him out of trouble, Champ,” Eddie said.
“I will. Don’t get murdered, Master Shannon,” Champ replied casually.
“Radio,” I said. Half a second later music started playing. At times like this, I sure appreciated technology. My ribs were really starting to sting, and my clothes were a mess after getting so chummy with the sidewalk outside, so I lay down on the couch and must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing I knew Alyssa was waking me up.
“You doing okay Tommy? Looks like you’ve been out playing with your friends already,” she said with a smile. It sure was a perceptive bunch I worked with.
“That’s one way of putting it,” I said as I forced myself into a sitting position. Alyssa had already prepared a cup of coffee and set it on the table next to the couch. She was the best; she had even lit a smoke for me and cleaned out my ashtray. As she went back into the outer office, I took the time to look her over. Unlike Lisa, Alyssa was more timid and shy, but she was every bit as nice to look at. Blond hair, long legs and an ample bosom made for a very nice combination. I’d thought more than once about having an encounter with her, of the carnal sort, but I always seemed to be getting beat up or shot at, which meant she spent most of her time patching me up. Aly moved to town while I was in the marines, so I didn’t meet her until she applied for a position with the FBI about the same time I did. When she heard that I was opening a small office right in our own neighborhood, she requested the post as my assistant and has been with me ever since. Her, Eddie and I had spent a lot of time cooped up in this small office together so we’d all gotten pretty close the last few years.
After a few more shots of coffee and another smoke, I was ready to get back to work. I had a pile of paperwork to catch up on. Somehow all the technical advancements in the world had never been enough to rid the world of paper, and I always
seemed to have a stack of it on my desk mocking me. All part of the exciting life of a special agent. About five o’clock Alyssa went home for the night. I’d had my face buried in papers all day and was happy to see Lisa finally arrive. We sat down by the stove in the living area.
“I need you to find someone,” she said, obviously uneasy.
“Sure; who am I looking for?”
“My dad,” she said. I laughed, at least until I realized she wasn’t joking.
“Paul’s missing?”
“Yes, for almost a week now,” she said.
“Jesus Lisa; why didn’t you say something sooner,” I said.
“I would have, believe me, but I didn’t know until today. I’ve been working the night shift for the last couple of weeks. I just assumed my dad had been coming home and leaving for work before I got up. Mom didn’t want to worry me, but she
finally said something yesterday.”
“Tell me what you know, anything that can help,” I said.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. He left for work last week and everything seemed fine, according to mom. He hasn’t been home since. No phone calls, no emails--nothing,” she shrugged. “I was going to call the police, but--” she just shook her head, letting the thought die.
“I know; they wouldn’t help unless there were some evidence of foul play. From what you told me, there isn’t any,” I said as I got up and rubbed absentmindedly at my goatee. It wasn’t like Paul to run off for any reason. I’d known him my
entire life and he was a family man through and through. Paul managed a warehouse here in town down at the pier, and he’d been working there for nearly twenty years now. Sure, he’d stayed out drinking a few times with his buddies,
but he always called home and let his family know he was safe. From the little bit I’d heard so far, I was plenty worried, but I certainly didn’t want to alarm Lisa anymore than necessary.
“We can’t pay you much,” Lisa said apologetically, interrupting my reflection. Poor kid probably felt bad since she couldn’t afford the kind of cabbage I was used to.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said to her as I stood up. “Eddie and I will stop by the warehouse and his usual hangout spots tonight and see what we can turn up. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” I stepped into my office to grab my coat and hat, and
then began the short walk to Lisa’s house. She lived with her parents close by, and I needed to stretch my legs anyway.
On my way back to the office, I thought about Lisa’s dad and what could have happened. The first possibility was that he’d split or run off with some other woman. But that was the advantage of working in your own neighborhood; you knew the people. I knew Paul wouldn’t do that, so I discounted the possibility until I had reason to believe otherwise. As far as the criminal outfits were concerned, nobody had a lock on this part of town, so there wasn’t an obvious place to start. This
area was still up for grabs, which meant that all the organizations were always trying to get an upper hand and claim the territory. The newcomers always had to be willing to be bolder and take some pretty big chances to get a piece of the action. That usually meant trouble for guys like me, who were far too stupid to mind their own business. Maybe Paul had seen or heard something at the warehouse that spooked him, or maybe someone grabbed him. The question was why. It gave us a place to start though.
I found Eddie back at the office and he was ready to go. We wandered downstairs and hopped in the car. The grav engine fired up instantly, humming gently as dozens of lights, gauges and displays sprang to life. We drove to the warehouse but parked a few blocks away; no sense in attracting any extra attention. We were across the street for about an hour, maybe two, when we saw a covered truck arrive and back up to one of the loading docks. The warehouse was quieter than it should have been. There was usually a night crew working, but these new players must have convinced them to make themselves scarce. There were two guys in the cab; they got out and started talking to one of three men that had emerged from the structure. All three men were carrying shotguns, and apparently not too shy about it. At least it was old tech, not that it would help me much if I took a dose of buckshot in the chest.
“Eddie, we need to tail that truck,” I instructed. “When they take off, don’t lose sight of them for a second. I’ll go inside and find out what’s going on. I’m even going to try and do it without getting killed. You know, just to mix things up.”Eddie shook his head and smiled as I moved across the street.
Right off the bat I had a knot in my stomach. I didn’t like the idea of taking on three shotgun toting hoods alone, but it had to be done, and unfortunately the badge I was carrying meant that it was my job to do it. Shotguns aren’t cutting
edge tech, but they are effective enough to separate a man’s head from his body, or punch a hole all the way through him. I checked my duty pistol. It was a standard issue Viper, a variable payload sidearm that had gotten me out of many
scrapes. The indicator lights told me that each of its half dozen varieties of ammo were full and ready for action.
I slid across the street and took cover behind a dumpster next to the warehouse door. I couldn’t hear anyone talking inside, but with a little luck I could slip in when the truck left. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and all five men came out. The morons were kind enough to leave the door open for me, so I slipped right in behind them as they gathered at the front of the truck. Once inside, I visually scanned the area. Nobody around. I confirmed it with a quick thermal scan, another nice modification to my organic optics. Unfortunately I wouldn’t have time to look over anything until I handled the three chumps when they came back in. I took cover behind a pile of boxes and waited. One of the three guys came in a few minutes later and it wasn’t hard to tell where he was headed. He was dancing
around so bad I could tell he was about to piss his pants. I needed one of these guys alive, and this was my pigeon.
He walked quickly to the bathroom and I was waiting for him when he came out. His shotgun was still slung over his shoulder and he never even saw the blow coming. I laid the cold steel of my pistol right upside his head. It was a satisfying
feeling; the guy went down hard and fast. Luckily I didn’t crack his worthless skull open or he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions. After his face-plant, I cuffed him and sat him up. I slapped him a few times to wake him up, then gave
him a few more for fun. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his own shotgun, a rather nice double barreled job, poked into his forehead.
“What’s in the truck?” I didn’t waste any time with small talk. I gave the shotgun a nudge to add some emphasis. His eyes were glued to it. It’s a good thing this guy had just relieved himself, or he would have been right then. He looked towards the door but didn’t say a thing. “Don’t do anything stupid. You yell out to your friends and the first thing I’ll do is open your skull up with a full serving of buckshot.”
“Guns—I think just guns—a sample to test the merchandise,” the scumbag said nervously. He was barely able to contain his anxiety, squirming around and eyeing the shotgun tucked ever so firmly into his forehead.
“Who’s paying the bill? Who’s supplying?” I asked impatiently. The guy said he didn’t know, and I believed him. If he knew anything, he’d be giving it up fast right now. I heard the truck start out front, and hoped that Eddie would have more
luck getting information than I had.
A minute or two later the other two thugs still hadn’t come back in. They must have known something was wrong—nobody takes this long to piss. The door burst open as I dove for cover behind a box to my right. A shotgun blast sent chunks of wood and cardboard flying over my head. I rolled to the far side of the crates and managed to take a shot at one of the men as he ran for cover. One barrel of the shotgun belched fire and sent a load of shot into his side. It peeled his ribs open like a Christmas present, and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground in an instant.
I moved again just as a shotgun blast from his friend slammed into the crate where I had been standing. I made my way through the maze of boxes and crates, trying to get position on the son of a bitch. With any luck, he was an untrained rough
like the one I’d thumped with my pistol. I didn’t hear him moving around, which meant he was probably dug in and about to shit his pants. Another shot fired; he didn’t know where I was and was taking wild shots trying to get lucky. My augmentations guaranteed that I could see and hear many times better than him, so the chances of him flanking me were pretty small. It was time to test this guy. My guts told me he was nobody, just some street punk who’d been hired to make a drop. I knew that tunnel vision would have hold of him right now, and he wouldn’t be thinking clearly. I crawled on top of some of the larger crates and made my way closer. More than likely, this guy wouldn’t consider an attack from above. He fired again, yelling frantically to his friends for help.
I had him. The boxes I was standing on were high, above the low hanging lights. He’d never be able to see me and I had a perfect fix on his location. The problem was that he was so keyed up from the fighting that there was no way I’d bring him down without killing him. Fine by me. I had a clear shot. I wanted to shoot him in the back and just be done with it, but the local badges tend to frown on shooting a man like that. Some bullshit about civil rights. I had to at least turn him around so I could finish him off without and avoid the internal affairs rats nosing around later.
“Federal agent, drop the gun now!” I yelled from my perch. And just as I expected he turned toward my voice and fired, buckshot pulverizing the boxes more than six feet below me. I fired the last shot in the scattergun. It caught him square in the face. Half a second later, he was on the ground, a 200 pound pile of twitching meat. I keyed the comm system on my wrist and called in the local PD. In two minutes I heard sirens and their distinctive, high performance grav thrusters in the distance. I had time to examine the two crates that were unloaded from the truck. Guns; the loser was telling the truth.
Nothing fancy, a small load of conventional pistols, a few rifles and half a dozen old-fashioned grenades. A small satchel next to it was full of money, nice and tidy in banded bundles. I took it; a little extra operating capital always comes in handy. The only other item of interest was a small glass case, which held a small electronic device no larger than an old silver dollar.When the locals arrived, I filled them in on the tip I’d received and what went down. Marvin Dent was the Sergeant on duty that night; we go way back. He was on the heavy set side with receding brown hair and dark brown eyes that were both alert and intelligent.
“Looks like you unearthed a real rats nest here, huh Tommy?” he said with a smile. “Any idea who’s behind it on either end?”
“No idea Marv, but you can bet they’ll be unhappy about a deal gone bad and a dead thug or two. If you guys can track these guns or any of the crew, let me know. Eddie tailed the truck when it left, so he may have more information on who was behind it,” I said.
“Well at least one of them is alive; that’s pretty good for you,” Marv smiled as he took down some notes. “The third guy—that shotgun blast did a number on him. We found one of his eyes three paces away,” he said.
“I almost shot him in the back,” I said honestly.
“You should have; not nearly as messy,” Marv replied without hesitation.
The sergeant knelt down and examined the open crates. “Not a bad bit of hardware here. One of them told you this was just a sample shipment?”
“Yeah, which means there are a lot more out there. I’ll get you full access to the Bureau’s resources to track those guns Marv, just send over the serial numbers when you get a chance. We can at least be thankful it’s all old-school hardware.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, this device was in the crate as well? Looks pretty high tech, and there are no company logos on it or anything else to identify it. Maybe it’s a prototype of some kind. What do you make of it?”
He grabbed it and held it up to the light, giving it a slow and thorough visual examination. “Not sure what it is Tom, guess it could be just about anything. I’m a cop, not a techie. How do you want to handle it?”
“Go ahead and record it as evidence and then sign it out to me. I’ll run it over to my brother and see if he can give me any information that might help. He’s usually a good place to start for anything related to tech.”
“You got it Tommy. Go ahead and get out of here, we’ll clean this up. I’ll find you at the office if we track anything down,” he said.
“Thanks Marv, but before I go I need to check Paul’s office, maybe there’s something in there that will tip me off about what happened to him.”
I went into Paul’s office and gave it the works. I checked all of his files, went through his desk and looked for any notes or other clues, even checking the garbage. As I stood back up I noticed a few spots of something on one of the walls and the floor just beneath it. It was red and thick, and a quick pass with my scanner revealed it was blood. I logged the DNA profile and continued the search. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of blood and it was already dry, so it had probably been there for at least twelve hours.
I found a bottle of unopened Scotch is the desk drawer, opened it and banged down a few good swallows to calm my nerves while I considered my next step. One of his haunts, the Buzzsaw Bar and Grill, was just down the road. He
liked to spend time there with his buddies after a long day at work. It was as good a place to start as any. I filled Marv in on what I’d found and said my goodbyes.
I hit the Buzzsaw, walked inside and found the place was fairly busy. The bartender, Steve, saw me as I came in and looked nervous right off.
“Relax Steve, I’m just here on a private matter,” I said. The place was a second home to a lot of working class guys, most of them busting their humps at the warehouses in this part of town. A lot of his customers liked to spend time with the ladies after a long day, so Steve let the pros hang out in the bar as an added benefit to his customers. He wasn’t a pimp, but he let them conduct their business safely.
“How can I help you Tom?” Steve asked as he toweled off the bar where I sat down. I ordered up a double vodka on the rocks and lit a smoke, then turned and looked around the place. Nothing caught my eye except for of the customers who had been eyeing me since I came in, and trying to look discreet about it, without looking like she was trying to be discreet about it. I finished up my smoke and lit another.
“Steve, you know Paul Riker, right?” I asked.
“Course Tommy, he’s one of my best regulars. Haven’t seen him around in almost a week though,” he said.
“Who’s that girl over there?” I asked as I nodded toward the curious customer that had been keeping tabs on me.
“That’s Megan, spends a lot of time in here. She’s a fresh recruit out of the academy and just joined the Seattle PD. She knows Paul well enough; they’ve spent a lot of time talking. Shall I ask her to come on over Tom?” he asked. I shook my head and made my way over to her. She looked up at me as I sat down; she was nervous.
“Relax Megan; I’m not here to make trouble. I just need some information.” I could see she relaxed a little bit, but she was still pretty wound up.
“And you are?”she asked.
“Name’s Tommy, but I tend to rub people the wrong way, so I usually let my pal Ben do the talking,” I said as I slid a crisp fifty dollar bill across the table. It got a smile out of her at least, and she relaxed visibly. “I’m looking for someone Megan, Paul Riker. I hear you know him.”
“Yes I do, but he hasn’t been in here in about a week,” she said.
“I heard that too. I think he might be in trouble Megan, big trouble. I need to find him. Steve tells me you two are plenty tight, so if you know where he is, it would be best for you to tell me; his family is worried sick.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen him in about a week,” she said calmly.
“If he contacts you, please notify me right away,” I said as I slid my card across the table. “If you have a roommate, please let her know so that if he comes by—“
“I live alone,”she said evenly as she got up. “And I’m off for the rest of the night, so if you’ll excuse me Mr. Morelli,” she finished. The alarms started going off in my head. I hadn’t told her my last name, which she’d just used. And my card was face down when I slid it across the table, and she hadn’t even looked at it when she picked it up and stuffed it in her purse. I didn’t recall meeting her before, but anything’s possible. But the young officer was attractive enough that I’d have made it a point not to forget a first encounter.
“Fair enough; I’ll walk you home,” I said as I got up. I expected her to protest, but she didn’t. She also didn’t say a word the five blocks we walked to her apartment building. She went inside and I made my way to the closest cab after
noting her address in my datapad. It was after midnight already. What a way to spend a Saturday night. It had been a long day and I was close to dozing off by the time the cab descended from the bright lights into the relative darkness of level 1. I settled up my tab with the cabbie and headed into Mick’s place. As usual he greeted me with a shout. “Can I get you a bourbon Tommy?”
“Just coffee,” I said with a weary smile, “Make it a double. Hey Mick, can you do me a favor and ring my office? If Eddie is there, tell him to stay put and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said.
“Sure thing Tommy,” Mick said. He was pouring my java with one hand and activating the comm system with the other. It was pretty crowded, but it didn’t take me long to find Lisa. She looked good tonight, like always. I made my way to the back room, which Mick kept closed off so the help had a quiet place to take their breaks. It was a fairly small but well furnished room with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. I took a seat and removed my hat and coat before lighting a smoke. Lisa came in a few minutes later and sat down. Mick came in right behind her and dropped off my coffee.
“You take your time Lisa; I got things covered out here,” he said. “I got in touch with Eddie; he’ll be waiting for you in the office Tommy.”
I took a generous swallow of coffee and a draw off my smoke. It felt good. Gunfights tend to cause some tension. I filled Lisa in on what had happened. She looked shocked. I gave her a minute to absorb it all while I had another swallow of java and finished off my cigarette.
“I—I’m so sorry Tommy; I had no idea it would be something like that. If you had gotten shot or—“ she was almost in tears and couldn’t complete the sentence.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s all part of the job. Besides, after getting beaten up this morning, I sat around all day and got bored. I needed something to spice up my night,” I said smiling, trying to make her feel a little better about it. “But listen, you and your mom should probably blow town for a while,” I said as I pulled out the wad of cash from the warehouse and peeled off more than enough money to set them up.
“Thanks Tommy; I don’t know what to say. But I can’t leave Mick without the help all weekend either,” she said.
“I tell you what Lisa, you can stay at my apartment if you want. I never stay there so you’ll have the place to yourself. If you don’t want to stay alone you are welcome to stay in the office. It’s got a shower, bed and kitchen in the back,” I finished. “But get your mom someplace safe, and do it fast.”
“Thanks Tommy, I--” she had tears welling up in her eyes now. I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down.“Look, it’ll be okay Lisa. Eddie and I will be working this case around the clock until it’s settled, and I’ll have the boys at the bureau run down these leads. Don’t worry about my fee. Since they took a few shots at me it’s now an official investigation. Take your time and think about where you want to stay, then stop by the office tomorrow and let me know,” I finished. I took a few more minutes to get her calmed down and then made my way back to the office. I locked the door behind me as I worked my way up the stairs. The place was quiet, and I found Eddie in the living area next
to the stove, gulping a cup of coffee. I pulled out the pile of cash I’d taken from the warehouse and threw half of it on the table. Eddie picked it up and put it in his pocket without a word, but not without a smile.
“Heya Tommy, here’s the address where the truck ended up,” he said as he slid a piece of paper across the table. I saw the address and couldn’t help but sigh.
“Ahhhh, shit,” was all I could get out.
***