The
spring breeze carried the sweet aroma of the bog melon orchards up into the
hills of Tali Sveelba. At night, as the breeze moved downward from the hills,
the smoke of the controlled burns in the high farmlands would salt the air. It
was nights like this that made John love the spring visits to the farm. Every
spring his family would make the long journey back to the old country, to the
family farm where his grandmother still made a home. Parts of the original
acreage had long since been sold off to other family members and some
developers…but the house stood. The ancestral home of the Clan D’yen.
At the family gatherings Johnny had
a tough time. While his brother also shared human and elf blood, John took most
of the physical human traits; the heavier bone and musculature, his skin
slightly pinker than his father and brother. During games with his numerous
cousins, John easily fell behind in races and couldn’t balance as well. Sarah,
his mother, often watched him as he played.
She would watch his temper flare, another human trait he had inherited.
He would return later and find shelter in her hip, tears of rage seeping into
her slacks. She would just smile and hum to him to quell the rage.
It was John’s eleventh year. At the
time he didn’t know it, but it was his last trip to the Tali Sveelba farm.
Within a year his Grandmother would die and the family would sell the farm. To
him is was just another blissful spring visit. As he and his brother had gotten
older they had started to grow closer. Now that John was 11 and Edward was 13,
the age difference seemed to be mattering less to them, except when Edward’s
friends were around. Then John was the annoying, tagalong brother. But when
they were alone, they were close friends.
John loved spending time with his brother, even when Edward called him
by the nickname he hated: Pinky.
As the dying rays of the sun
streamed in between the knotty wood planks of the old barn, Edward burst from
the hay. John screamed, fell backward and laughed. Edward, always the cop in
cops and robbers, leveled the toy gun at John.
“Did you think I wouldn’t hear you
sneaking up on me, Pinky?” Edward poked the toy gun into John’s chest. John
laughed harder as he scrambled to his feet and swiped at Edward. The older
brother stepped back but not before John knocked the toy gun away.
With all the evil laughter he could
muster John snatched the toy and aimed it. Edward bolted for the other side of
the barn. John followed with a loud shout of “BANG!”. He watched as his older
brother, ever the dramatist, spun around and grabbed his chest, like on TV.
Then he stumbled back into a corner where a bunch of shovels and rakes leaned
against the dark wall. With a giggle and a dramatic flourish Edward fell into
the rakes.
What happened next happened so fast
that John was helpless to stop it. Edward stood up laughing and brandishing a
shovel. With a howl, a cat that had been cooling itself in the shadows darted
through Edward’s legs. Edward yelled in shock and brought the shovel down.
The boys soon found themselves
standing over the twitching body of the cat. John looked up at his older
brother. Edward’s eyes had grown large and glistened with tears.
“Is it dead?” John mumbled.
A tear slipped down Edward’s cheek,
“Yeah.”
“We have to tell mom.”
“We can’t. I’ll get in so much
trouble. We need to hide it.”
Edward took the cat’s body, stuffed
it into his knapsack and took it to the melon bog at the bottom of the farm.
John couldn’t do it. When he was peddling away, Edward had threatened little
John with great tortures if he told. John didn’t tell; he couldn’t stop
thinking about it, but he didn’t tell.
That night Sarah knew something was
bothering her youngest. Thomas, for all his police training, wore blinders
toward the family. He never understood why John was so emotional; He just
wanted the boy to lighten up. Sarah looked beyond it. She remembered well her
own father, also a police officer, was the same way. During dinner she could
tell that something was wrong. John always had a hearty appetite, especially
for his grandmother’s cooking. That night, he pushed his food around the plate.
Sarah smiled slightly. “Johnny?
You’re not hungry?”
John glanced at Edward for a moment
and then shook his head. “I don’t feel well. Is it all right if I’m excused? I
think I’d like to go to bed.”
Tom wasn’t really paying attention.
He was glancing through the doorway into the living room at the game. Sarah’s
smile fell for a moment. She nodded. The look between the boys was brief, but
it was enough that she knew something had transpired that day. John’s head hung
as he hopped down and went upstairs.
That night John could hear someone
calling out a name in the distance. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but
he could still hear the voice, some farmer’s wife, elsewhere in the valley,
calling out to the cat that hadn’t come home that night. When the voice went
away John’s mind was filled with the images of the cat, twitching, bleeding in
the dirt of the barn floor. He could hear Edward’s breathing in the darkness.
How could he sleep?
Morning came as no surprise. John
had watched the curtains become lighter and lighter. Soon he could smell the
sausage and eggs cooking in the kitchen. There would be fresh tomatoes and
ulbeck roots chopped up in the eggs. His gut twisted again. He couldn’t tell
anymore if it was hunger or guilt. He wondered if his mom was awake. He
couldn’t take any more. He had to tell her.
Half an hour later he stood in the
hallway, his eyes partially lowered, watching Edward march in front of their
father into the guest room where Sarah was waiting. The knot in his stomach had
loosened but the regret of broken trust made him tremble. Edward turned and
glared at John, his eyes stabbing at the younger brother. As their father
closed the door John fought the urge to run in and say it was all a lie. To fix
what he had broken.
With a skull rattling BANG the door
shut and Edward’s glare of angry betrayal was gone .
Little Johnny D’yen was alone in the
hallway.
“APEX”
by Eric Schwartz
Stack took a
step back from the trunk of the car. The clock on the bomb slowly ticked
backward. He felt the moisture collect in the palm of his hands. He didn’t know
that the blood racing to his brain in an attempt to solve this problem was
constantly feeding his brain the drugs that crime boss Nick Manzetti had been
secretly pumping him with. He knew only that he couldn’t concentrate. He knew
that he had a headache. He knew that Manzetti was controlling everything now.
Stack watched
the red numbers intently for a moment. Less than two minutes. Then he started
laughing. It surprised him but he laughed. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring
his view of the bomb, but the laughter still came. He pulled the body
completely out of the car onto the cement. Still chuckling he examined the
bomb. Images of a thousand TV shows filled his head. Cut the red wire? Cut the
green wire? He looked. Black wire had been used exclusively in the construction
of the bomb. The revelation made him chuckle again.
A minute. There
wasn’t enough time to evacuate the building or the area. There wasn’t enough
time to get the bomb squad and a robot diffuser in to deal with it. There were
forty-five seconds left and all Stack could think to do was run. And he did.
He barreled
full speed into the concrete stairwell and ran down as many flights as he
could. Finally he reached a landing, he huddled up with his forearms protecting
his head. He waited for the boom. Forty-five seconds had passed, he was
certain. He looked at his watch. He waited another thirty seconds. Still
nothing. Finally he stood up as his phone rang. Without a word he turned on the
phone and put it to his ear.
“Boom,” came
the voice. Manzetti chuckled. “Did you run away, Sgt. Forray? When the chips
were down, did you abandon your post?” Stack said nothing. The adrenaline
screamed in his ears and he felt the quiver of anxiety, with no payoff, just
under his ribs. “I think by your silence that you did. You see? I know you. I
know that under that focused, problem-solving exterior you are a soft,
frightened child. You’re weak like everyone else. I’ll be in touch.“ The line
went dead.
Emotionless,
Stack slipped the phone into his pocket and trudged back up the stairs to the
car. He approached the body that was now prone on the floor of the garage. A
few weeks had started the process of decomposition and Stack finally noticed
the smell. And the buzzing. Buzzing? The front pocket of the man’s pants was
vibrating. Stack reached in and pulled out a handheld PDA. ‘Incoming Text’ was
flashing on the display and it was vibrating. He extracted the stylus and
opened the message.
“Pomrey
Building downtown. Twelfth floor. 1256 – Z433B56”
Stack slipped
the PDA into his pocket and proceeded to lift the corpse back into the trunk of
the car.
*
Laura nearly
kicked the door to Kendra’s office open. “What the hell are you thinking?!”
Kendra looked
up and smiled in her sickeningly sweet way. “Why, hello Laura. Come in. Sit a
spell.”
“You stole my
story.”
Kendra smiled,
set her jaw, leaned forward and pushed herself up off the desk. “Close the
door,” she said calmly. Laura obliged. When the latch had clicked shut Kendra
exploded. “Now you listen to me. I have been covering your ass for months with
management. I know how important taking care of Charlie has been to you. That’s
why I went to the wall for them to approve your leave of absence. But you
forget yourself. You don’t call me up and play two ends against the middle. You
work for me. You don’t work for the BCPD. You are a reporter and you seem to
forget that. I had every right to go into your voicemail and get my story. The
public has a right to know that Manzetti killed Alder.” Kendra sat down hard.
Laura blinked
for a moment. “You blew my shot at getting information before anybody else.”
“What
information? You HAD the information before everybody else. What other
information is there? Look, you tried to be smooth and you got bit in the ass.
You still get the byline. You still take the credit. You’ll probably get
another freaking award for it.”
“You know what,
Kendra?!” Laura took a deep breath in preparation for the yelling. She was
quieted by silent finger.
“Before you say
something that you can’t take back, let me remind you about journalistic
integrity. Let’s talk about a code of ethics. Let’s talk about thin ice.”
Laura’s fists
clenched for a moment. She licked her lips, her tongue lingering in the cool
air for a moment. It calmed her. “Fine. I will be taking the rest of the day.
The assassination shook me up a bit.”
“You need a
trauma counselor?” Kendra shot back sarcastically.
Laura’s chuckle
was hollow. She turned to the door. “I’ll be fine,” she hissed.
*
As Smiles car
sped south across the expanse of the Black Flats, he ran the tuner on the radio.
Occasionally he would catch a few staticky moments of some old standard or a
religious broadcast. Then the desert would swallow the sound again. The hunt
for music occupied his mind. Smiles had trouble wrapping his brain around the
other issue. His sister, Gina was alive. She had been spoken to in the last
month. Smiles was heading to the overgrown and generally malignant mining town
of Thrombis on the western edge of the Flats. There he would find his sister’s
PO Box and possibly…her.
Since he left
the Mooghan compound Smiles had been pondering the Walk of Ascension. The
cleansing rite of the Mooghan Pod Dwellers. He thought of Gina living like a
hermit in the wilderness, in the harsh unrelenting bleakness of the Black
Flats. It was too much to take, so he put his mind to finding a radio signal.
With a beep
Smiles found a signal. It was weak and quivering on the edge of fading, but
Smiles hand gently released the tuning knob like a vault-cracker gingerly
working a combination lock.
“BCJT - Big City’s most reliable news radio
with traffic and weather together on the 8s, market reports three times an hour
and headlines twenty-four hours a day. Here are the top stories this hour… The
Big City Herald has just released a statement that they are about to publish an
article claiming that fugitive mob boss, Nicholas Manzetti, is responsible for
the public assassination of Transit Authority Manager Pembrandt Alder…”
The car
screeched to a halt in the middle of nowhere.
“What?!” Smiles
stared at the radio as the news station quickly moved to another topic. As
Smiles started up the car again he drummed his fingers. He recognized Alder’s
name from eons ago, but why did Manzetti choose to go public? It all stank.
Getting to Gina was more important than ever. If Stack catches Manzetti, Gina
could testify and end the speculation of nearly a decade.
The serpentine
belt that drove the car and the A/C compressor groaned as Smiles pushed the car
faster. He wanted to reach Thrombis before it got too late. At night the
streets of Thrombis roll up…and the violence rolls out.
*
On the floor of
the passenger seat Needless’ ever present mix tape collection sat open. One
tape for every mood that Needless could ever hope to be in. He kept the “cop
collection” in Stack’s car. That box contained tapes like “Terry Stop”, “We Got
A Warrant” and “High Speed Chase”. Music was one of the greatest comforts to
Needless. He never used music to alter his moods, just highlight them. Angry
times…angry music. Music to work out to. Music to be sad to. He hadn’t yet
gotten into the CD burning thing …but it would come.
For once, his
stereo was silent. Needless didn’t know what to make of the emotion he felt as
he sped back to the station. It was anger, tinged with regret, sadness and
fear. He and Tim Carnaby had just uncovered that Manzetti had been feeding
drugs to Stack for weeks, possibly months, ever increasing the dosage in his
water supply, slowly changing his brain chemistry. Now the partner who no
longer wanted anything to do with Needless was out in the city somewhere,
pumped full of drugs. Manzetti was on the move, and his best friend was out
there, unprotected.
As Needless
moved from side streets to the freeway, hoping to cut some time off his trip to
the station, he became aware that another vehicle was keeping pace with him. He
looked to his right and was amazed to see The Java Jalopy keeping up with him.
Greta was yelling at him. Where the hell did she come from? What the hell does
she want?
She edged over
in the lane and Needless could read ‘pull over’ on her lips. Needless blinked.
This was a new selling tactic for her. He gave a confused half smile, shrugged,
pointed to his watch and cocked his head in an apology. He looked back at the
road. A moment later he became aware that Greta had pulled the Jalopy right
next to his car. He glanced over just as the desperate Greta swerved slightly
toward Needless’ car.
“What the…”
Needless swerved to avoid being hit. Greta then gunned the Jalopy and darted in
front of him and slowed down, forcing Needless to slow also. Pissed off and
swearing loudly Needless pulled onto the left shoulder. The Jalopy did the
same. He angrily leapt from the car, put his hand on Penny and stalked toward
the idling Jalopy. “Greta! I don’t want coffee. Okay?! What is the deal?”
Greta jumped
from the hind end of the Jalopy and in tears threw her arms around Needless.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I was so scared that I wasn’t going to find
you.”
“What’s going
on?”
Greta babbled a
mile a minute. “But there you were. I couldn’t believe my luck. It was like
fate.”
Needless put
his hands on her shoulders and tried to calm her. “Greta. Slow down. What’s
wrong.”
“Sgt. Forray. I
saw him. He gave me this and told me to find you.” She held out the receipt.
Needless read
the back; Needless ASAP Trouble! No search. Manzetti avatar hostages . His head snapped up
and his eyes locked with Greta. “Where was he? Where did you get this?”
“He was at the
bus station. He was on a cell phone. But he was acting weird. He did this whole
fake ‘pen doesn’t work’ thing while he wrote this.”
Needless
smiled. “Greta, you were very brave to do this for Stack. I need you to be
brave a little bit longer. Okay?” She nodded. “Go home. Keep the Jalopy in for
a few days.”
“Am I in
trouble?”
“It’s just a
precaution. Stack wouldn’t put you in danger. But, just to be safe, go home and
lay low for a few days.”
“Will Sgt.
Forray be alright?”
Needless nodded
with a smile and lied. He had no idea. Greta had just delivered the worst
possible news.
*
The man with
green eyes sat quiet in Center Park. He’d just returned to Big City after a
time away. Things had gone so wrong. Things had slipped away from him. For many
years, watching Charlie had been simple, a pleasure. Watching him grow up.
Watching him become a man. There were so many lessons that Charlie had been
learning working with Johnson: self-reliance, initiative, resourcefulness. He
stepped further back than usual to allow Charlie the ability to experience
these things. To learn. To become the man he should be.
Recently
though, things had gone so wrong. The blindness, the torture and the operation.
Each step seemed to take Charlie further and further away. The Watcher had
broken his oath and revealed himself to the shape-shifter to protect Charlie.
Then the doctor’s and their barbaric surgery nearly destroyed what the old man
had sworn to protect, and it left Charlie with a broken mind.
Love and duty
had so often collided in the old man’s heart over the last quarter of a
century. This time they worked together. He had been away making preparations.
The time had come. This had gone on long enough.
*
Laura stepped
into the Big City Eyes waiting room and was greeted by Emily behind the desk.
Laura sat down on the couch.
“Smiles in?”
Emily shook her
head. “Nope. He said he might be out of town for a few days. He’s working some
case.”
“Gotta make
money.” Laura leaned back and ran her fingers through her hair.
Emily raised
her eyebrows and set her jaw slightly. “Actually no. It’s personal. I have no
idea what it’s about. He’s been working on it for weeks.”
Laura cocked
her head. “You mean Smiles hasn’t done any actual work in weeks?”
“Months more
like it. After Charlie went— “ Emily looked at the desk. She’d forgotten who
she was talking to. “—you know, blind. He did a few, but this case seemed to
take more and more of his time.” Emily smiled sadly. “Smiles would kill me for
saying this, but I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“Bills piling
up?”
“No. The money
from the Basco case is still covering them, but there’s no money coming in. I
know Smiles doesn’t want to replace Charlie…but…the Basco money is going to run
out sooner or later, and then…Big City Eyes will close, unless...” Laura nodded in understanding. Emily looked at her watch. “Oh crap. Do you
mind covering the phones for a while? I have to go get Dex from school. It
should only take forty-five minutes or so.”
Laura stuck her
lip out and nodded. Emily thanked her and dashed out the door. Laura sat for a
while on the couch, her mind numb. She was tired. It was all too much. She
stood up and slowly made her way to Charlie’s office. Nothing had moved in
months. Their picture. The joke name plate she’d given him that said ‘Smirks
Pickens’. Everything was as it was when he left to go down to the vampire
caves.
She would have
cried, but there was no point. She felt cried out, and she was sick of it.
*
As rush hour
traffic began to stifle the downtown area below, Stack stepped out of the
elevator onto the twelfth floor of the Pomrey building. He checked the PDA
again. 1344. He slowly moved down the hall. The Pomrey was one of the wealthier
high-rise apartment buildings in Big City. Each apartment a quarter-mil condo.
After a few moments Stack found himself in front of 1256. He jiggled the knob.
Nothing. He looked up and down the corridor. He was alone.
He pulled a small lock-picking
kit out of his pocket and was inside a moment later.
As he tumbled
slightly into the room, he heard a quiet beeping. He turned and found the
security keypad. A red light was flashing. He quickly punched in the code from
the PDA. The liquid crystal display flashed “alarm deactivated”. He calmly
closed the door.
Stack slipped
his gun out of his holster as he moved into the room. Clean, but unimaginative.
Not much on the walls. It felt more like a hotel room. Stack’s first note to
himself: the home of some one who travels a lot, or has traveled a lot. Home,
but no real roots. As he moved from the living room, he stepped into the
bedroom. Some small pictures were
attached to the mirror.
It’s what Stack
had figured. One of the pictures was of the man that Stack found in the trunk
of the car. He didn’t recognize any of the other people in the pictures. But
one of the pictures had the deceased in a black suit with a Bureau badge
clipped to his belt. He was with the Bureau. He took one of the pictures and
moved further up the hall.
He eased open
the door to the den. It was as he expected. Nearly every cop he ever knew had a
room or an area like this. Cluttered. Press clippings, certificates, department
pictures. A lifetime of service in one place.
Special Agent
Garrett Spencer. That had been his name. Unmarried. Fifteen years of service to
the Bureau. From the newspaper
clippings Stack found piled in manila folders, Spencer had more than a passing
fancy with Manzetti. Clippings dating back to the death of Manzetti’s wife, the
investigation, the trials, Gina. As Stack rummaged further he found some papers
that indicated that Spencer left the Bureau a few years back. No reason given.
Stack took a
few things and stuffed them into his back pocket. He continued up the hallway.
He was surprised to see a sliver of light coming from an open door. He
tightened the grip on his gun and edged toward it. His head pounded. He felt
short of breath. He reached out his hand and gently opened the door.
He found
himself in the bathroom. Scrawled in
big letters on the mirror, in yellow paint marker, were these words: BAD COP!
SO SAD. SO NEAR THE END. U-STOR-IT
CORNELL WAY #J87 MY FILE. A key
was taped to the mirror.
Stack chuckled
slightly, shut his eyes, shook his head and put his fist through the mirror.
*
Thrombis, for
being a piss-poor excuse for a town, was bustling with life. Shift changes in
the mines and plants were always busy times. Waves of workers heading home or
to the bars or to whatever release Thrombis had to offer. Smiles parked on the
street and stepped out of his car. A gust of wind blew a dark cloud of black
sand into his face. Smiles checked his watch. He made it just under the wire.
Another ten minutes and they would’ve closed. He stepped inside and moved to
the counter.
“Afternoon,”
the clerk intoned.
Smiles nodded
his reply. He stepped up to the clerk with a tired, fake smile. “I’m glad
you’re still open.” The clerk gave a small chuckle. It was obvious he was not
glad. “I’m looking for something and perhaps you can help.”
“Maybe. What
are you looking for?”
“A person. In
fact, this lady, right here.” He slid the picture across the counter.
The clerk
barely looked. “Haven’t seen her.”
“You sure? She
keeps a box here. 1344? You’ve never seen her?”
“My eyesight
ain’t what it used to be.”
Smiles rolled
his eyes and slipped a fifty across the counter. “Here’s a donation to the
Postal Service’s insurance plan.”
The clerk eyed
the money with the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I seen her. She was here two days
ago checking on her box. Crazy chick. Lives out on the flats.”
“Yeah she does,
so she would need supplies. Gear. Essentials. Where would somebody get that?”
The clerk
chuckled. “I don’t even need to guess.” He pointed across the street. “She
always walks across the street to Edna’s. They got supplies and food and
drinks.”
Smiles turned
to leave. “Thanks.”
“You might want
to watch your ass, city man. Day shift is likely to be drinkin’, and mean.”
He wasn’t sure
the clerk heard him but Smiles chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
*
Needless closed
the door to Breen’s office. “I know where Stack is.”
Breen sat back
in his chair. “Good. Where is he?”
“I don’t know.
But I know what he’s doing.” Needless handed the note to Breen. “I just got
this from the Java Jalopy driver. She said Stack slipped it to her to give to
me. She said he was on a cell phone the whole time.”
“Avatar?”
“Something that
represents something else. The lake monster thing last year. That was an
avatar. What I gather from that, is that Manzetti has Stack by the balls and
has him running around for him or he’ll kill some hostages.”
“Shit.”
“And there’s
more. Carnaby and I found that Manzetti, or somebody, has been pumping Stack
full of drugs for a while, steadily giving him more. That’s what’s been causing
the mood swings.”
Breen stood up
and pulled open his desk drawer. He pulled out a large bottle of antacids,
tipped it back like a liquor bottle and started chewing. “So. We don’t know where Stack is, or what he’s capable
of right now, plus Manzetti’s hand in the Alder thing is all over the news
now.”
“Laura? Damn
it!”
“Yes and no.
Anyway, that particular part of Manzetti’s plan has succeeded.”
“Cap, we gotta
smoke this mole out, now. In the next few hours. We need to know what Manzetti
has planned for Stack. I’m afraid that we’re nearing the end of this and if we
don’t do something now, it will be too late.”
“How are we
going to do that?”
Needless sat
down and leaned forward. He stacked a pencil on top of a notepad. “I’ve been
thinking about this since I left Stack’s place. Who would Manzetti pick? Who
would he have had somebody approach?”
“The weakest
link. Gambling debt, marital problems, history of violence.” Breen cocked his
head at Needless. “Are you the mole?”
“No.”
Breen shrugged.
“That’s all I had.”
“See, more than
weakness, I think the first person Manzetti would go for would be somebody
familiar. From everything that Stack and Smiles and Laura have said, this guy
plays everything close to the chest. He’s meticulous. He needs to know that
person. He generally needs a history. The cop he needed was somebody with
something to lose, something to gain AND had a history with Manzetti.”
“There’s a
dozen guys on the force who were part of the Manzetti investigation at one
point or another eight years ago. We don’t have time to interrogate them all
and break down their stories.”
“Is there a
listing of the officers who had contact with Manzetti? Transcripts of
conversations?”
“Nothing we
have access to anymore. When the Bureau took over the investigation, that was
all taken as evidence in the case against Manzetti. When he vanished, it got
locked away. The city fought to get it back, but…you know the Bureau.”
“How many
people know about that?”
“Not many. It
was a little embarrassing.” Breen popped another antacid.
Needless smiled
and nodded. Breen cocked his head.
“You suck with
computers right?”
*
Smiles moved to
the bar and had a seat. The bartender, a rather androgynous looking Goblin,
wiped it’s hand and moved to Smiles. He was surprised when a female voice came
out.
“What can I get
you?”
Smiles pulled
out his money clip. “Whatever comes in a big, thick mug.” He slapped some money
down on the bar. As the bartender moved away to get his drink, Smiles sized up
the crowd. They were filthy, piled high with muscles, and most of them didn’t
look like they wanted to talk. When the beer appeared near him, he downed it in
one go which got the attention of a few.
He knew that there was only one way to really get information in a place
like this.
“Excuse me!”
Smiles barked over the noise of the bar. Every conversation stopped and the
patrons turned and looked at him. “Normally I wouldn’t do this, I try to be a
little more slick. However, time is of
the essence and my money clip is probably too small to bribe everyone I need
to. I’m looking for this woman.” Smiles held Gina’s picture in the air. “She is
possibly living in a cave or mine in the area. I was told that she comes to
this… establishment for supplies.”
An large man,
his skin smeared black with dust and sand, chuckled. “Well, from the looks of
her in that picture, I got something I could supply her with.” Some of the bar chuckled with him.
Smiles turned. He
had been hoping that some kindly person would offer up information. He knew it
was a fool’s hope. In a place like this, on a night like this, in a
hope-crushing town like this there was only one real way to get information.
You had to earn it. Smiles’ eyes locked with Mr. Smeary. “If you haven’t seen
her, you have no reason to open your gas hole. So shut up.”
The miner stood
up. “What did you say to me?”
“I said… you
dumb Thrombis fuck, SHUT UP.”
The miner lunged and half
the room seemed to move with him. Smiles brought his big, heavy beer mug around
and smashed it into the guy’s head. He then felt two hands grip his shoulders
from behind. He threw his head back and heard the assailant’s nose snap and the
grip released.
The bartender was
shrieking something. Some others stood back as Smiles found himself squaring
off with a miner that was head and shoulders above him. Smiles sent his fist
flying but was beaten to the punch, literally. He staggered back at the force
of the hit. The miner lumbered forward. Part of the crowd was cheering the
miner on as he moved toward Smiles. The other half seemed to be trying to
convince the oaf to stop and leave Smiles alone. The miner’s huge hand reared
back, ready to smash down onto Smiles’ head.
The miner soon found
himself at the business end of a gun. He froze, terrified of the little man
who, it seemed, was now going to kill him. The crowd went quiet. Smiles winked,
spun the gun backward into his palm and smashed it into the side of the miner’s
head. A bleeding gash opened up on the side of the guy’s shaved head and the
lumbering man dropped to one knee.
Smiles dropped
the gun to his side and cocked it. “What’s your name?” The miner didn’t reply. “Is it okay if I call
you Mr. Mountain? I have a thing about giving people nicknames. It’s a habit.
So, Mr. Mountain, I have no desire to continue this course of action.” Smiles
glanced up at the other patrons. “The rest of you. Now that I have your
attention, and maybe your respect… have any of you seen THIS WOMAN?!”
“Yeah.” The voice drifted from the back of the room.
“I know where she is.”
Smiles uncocked
his gun and helped Mr. Mountain to his feet. Then he hurried to the man who had
returned to watching the news with subtitles. The man was cleaner than most. Still
a little grungy, but what wasn’t in this town? He looked to be late thirties
and fairly respectable. The growth of beard indicated an edge. Smiles sat down
across the table from him.
The man took a
sip of beer. “Quite a display. You’ve been in places like this before.”
“Gotta do what
you gotta do. So who are you?” Smiles lit a smoke.
“First, tell me
why you’re so hot to find this girl. I don’t
want to get her in any trouble, you understand?” The man stared at Smiles, and Smiles knew he wouldn’t get any
more info without being honest with him.
He lowered his head, his bravado from the previous minutes gone. “She’s my sister. I thought she was dead. I
just want to make sure she’s…okay.”
The man stared at him for
a moment, then spoke. “I’m a geologist.
I work for one of the big mining companies in town, IDON. You heard of them?”
Smiles shook his head. “Anyway, I met
your…sister at the Assessor’s office. She was looking to rent an abandoned
mine.”
“Did you
oblige?”
The guy
shrugged. “Yeah. It was a little over a month ago now. The mine she’s staying
in is approaching a hundred years old. I told her it wasn’t safe. The company
usually holds on to those mines for historical societies…sometimes, when one
thing is tapped out they’ll check it again later when they’re mining something
else.”
“So, does IDON
know that she’s staying there?”
The guy smiled
and took another drink. “Not exactly. She paid up front, why should I turn it
down? She told me…the older the better.
No offense, but she’s kind of creepy.”
Smiles waved
away the comment without a word. “Look, how do I find this mine?”
The guy looked
at his watch. “You won’t reach it before dark. It’s almost two hours into the
Flats, and I’m not talking about off the main highway, I mean…across the Flats.
You’ll need a GPS to find your way. You got one?”
Smiles bit his
lower lip and shook his head. “You got one I can buy?”
The guy reached
into the knapsack next to him. He slipped the Global Positioning device across
the table. “$200.”
Smiles looked
at the beat-up device and back at the geologist. “Are all geologists money
grubbing pricks?”
The geologist
laughed. “Haven’t met one yet that wasn’t.”
*
The evening
edition of The Big City Herald hit the newsstands. Fabled mob boss Nick
Manzetti was back. He’d killed some politician. He had kidnapped some reporter
a while back and tipped her off to the killing. He had kidnapped some cop’s
sister and another cop’s fiancee eight years ago. They believe he killed her
before he escaped custody and went underground.
Along with the
main story there were articles about Alder, about the original investigation,
about Stack. The Herald had a hit on their hands. Laura had broken another hot
one for the paper. As she stood reading the paper on the sidewalk, she could
feel how she had messed up. She had played right into Manzetti’s hands. She
needed to make it right, for Stack and for Smiles.
There had been
no word from Stack all day. She had called several times and there was no
answer. Needless was out of communication, as was Smiles. She was alone. She
wanted to fix it. She folded up the paper and dropped it in a garbage can. There
was only one place left to go. She needed to see him. She walked back to her
car and headed toward the hospital.
*
Stack hadn’t
come back that day. ‘Manzetti must have started things in motion. D’yen and
Breen are in a panic. Twenty minutes ago Needless left Breen’s office pissed off.
Wonder what’s going on. They can’t find Stack. That’s what’s going on?’
The Mole
watched casually. Soon this would all be over and he could just go back to
being a cop. He looked back at his computer. New mail. He opened it.
FROM: dbreen@bcpd.gov
TO:
jdyen@bcpd.gov
CC: <Department>
N
- You were right about that file. All the transcripts from the Manzetti
interviews are over in the city
archives. This Alder thing has me up to my eyeballs, I can’t get over there
until tomorrow morning. Meet me over there early and we’ll pull those files.
Whoever it is, they’re sure to be in there.
B
A cold sweat
broke out on The Mole’s forehead. ‘They’re looking for me. I’m in that file. Do
they know it’s me? Why did they send this to me? Do they know?’
Across the
floor another cop laughed. “Good one Cap! Way to be stealthy.” A moment later a muffled “SHIT!” could be
heard from behind Breen’s door. A few moments later:
FROM: dbreen@bcpd.gov
TO:<Department>
CC:
Hi
all,
Please
disregard the last message. And don’t bother telling me. I know I copied everybody.
Just ignore it. Yes, I’m an idiot.
Cpt.
Breen
‘They don’t know. Not
yet. I have to get that file.’ The Mole watched Needless get up from his desk,
dial his phone and walk out of the station. He checked his watch again. He’d go
soon and get rid of those files before Breen and Needless had a chance to get
there.
*
The sun was starting to
hang lower over the bay, its light moving to a deeper orange. It was
suppertime. As traffic had started to ease and the early evening hours began to
take their hold, Stack pulled into the U-Stor-It lot. He pulled the car up to
the electronic gate, slipped the key into the hole and turned it. With a whir
the gate opened. Stack slowly drove in. He scanned the sign for the location of
J87.
He followed the arrows
around and pulled up in front of #J87. It was a smaller storage locker, not
much bigger than a walk in closet. There were a few boxes of clothes, a box of
paperbacks. It seemed that our Bureau
agent had a taste for pulp noir novels. At the back of the locker there was a
stack of two or three file boxes. Stack reached over and pulled them out onto
the hood of the car.
As Stack began to move
through the files, he realized that Spencer had stolen these from the Bureau
before he left; hundreds of files that
he shouldn’t have had. The first box had nothing. Stack started on the second
box. More files, sometimes mixed with newspaper clippings. More and more
Spencer seemed like a collector. These were his favorite cases. Perhaps cold
cases that he would pull out and work on in his spare time…Smiles did the same
thing from time to time.
Finally Stack opened the
last box. He began digging. Pay dirt. The entire box was dedicated to Manzetti
and the operation of the Syndicate. Pictures, notes, interviews. Which file did
Manzetti want? Stack finally came across a newer folder. The date was only two
years old. He opened the file. It gave locations of where Manzetti had been.
Sightings. Contact between Spencer and Manzetti as recent as two years ago.
Spencer, and possibly the
Bureau, knew where Manzetti had been for the last eight years. This was the
file; Stack could feel it. He was about
to close the box when his eye caught the next file down. The label read “Johnson”.
Stack reached in slowly and pulled the file out. He took a deep breath, leaned
against the car and opened the file.
It had been a balmy day.
He and Gina had finally settled on a date for the wedding. They had gone to a
beach-side restaurant for a weekend dinner. It was early and the sun was still
up. Gina loved seafood. Her favorite was grilled White Bresbak, pepper and
citrus hand-rubbed into it before going on the grill. She’d had dessert that
day. She didn’t have much of sweet tooth, but on occasion she did like a good
cheesecake. She had worn a white blouse that caught the sea breeze, with her
ball cap. As usual she had her hair in a ponytail, pulled through the back of
the hat. They ate outside and walked through the beachfront carnival.
Stack smiled as tears
welled in his eyes. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. Each black
and white photo brought on another flood of memories. Gina’s apartment. Gina,
Smiles and Stack playing a pick up game of Square T’s at the department’s
annual picnic. Those were different people. He was a different man. He missed
the man he was with Gina. He missed the love he felt. He missed Smiles. The
real Smiles. The man who laughed all the time. The man who was almost his
brother. He missed those three carefree people laughing in these pictures.
In his heart he knew
Manzetti wanted him to see this. Manzetti, the man who had ripped Stack away
from the life he had had in these pictures.
“What do you want?!” He
shouted. “Why are you doing this to me? Just kill me! Please. I’m tired of the
games.” He began to sob. His head was throbbing. He couldn’t focus his eyes. He
couldn’t stop crying. What was wrong with him? His hand was already bandaged
and cut from the mirror at Spencer’s house when he drove it through his
passenger side window.
He stood, gulping air, rage
blinding him. He closed his eyes. ‘I have to calm down. I have to. I have a job
to do.’ He swallowed his anger and opened his eyes. He closed up the locker and
put the file boxes in the trunk of his car. Everything except the file of
Manzetti’s whereabouts after his disappearance.
The phone rang. Stack was
numb as he activated the phone and pulled it to his head.
“What?!”
Manzetti’s
voice seemed to circle his head like a wolf. “It’s been a long day, Stack. Do
you have it?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s time
to end this. Bring it to me.”
“Fine.”
“Come alone,
Stack. I want it to be just you and me. Man to man.”
Stack couldn’t
help but chuckle. “Whatever. Where?”
“Sergeant…”
Manzetti sounded slightly disappointed. “I think you know where. “
The phone went
dead. Stack dropped the phone into his pocket. He knew where. The only place
this could all end. The place it all began…or ended, depending. Stack took a
deep breath and moved to his car.
*
The
lock was picked and the knob turned. The
door slowly creaked open. The old police file archive was dark and deserted. A
dim light remained lit in the center of the room. The figure made his way
toward the central row of filing cabinets.
He moved along, reading the labels of the drawers as he went. When he
found the drawer he was looking for, he reached out and opened it.
Unpracticed
hands nervously pulled the plant file out of the drawer. The hidden eyes could
make out the unmistakable form. The receding hairline. The unimaginative tie
riding the wave of the pot belly. The eyes in the shadows knew well the person
standing before him; Detective Callisto. They had been waiting for quite a
while for him to arrive.
“How long?” The voice
seemed to seep from the shadows of the archive. Callisto turned with a start,
dropping the file back into the cabinet. Needless stepped slowly out of the
darkness into the dim light, his arched, elven eyebrows nearly touching in anger.
“Did you hear me?” Needless hissed. “How long have you been selling us out to
Manzetti?”
Callisto
stammered. “Needless? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Like a spring
loaded machine, Needless raised his arm with his beloved Penny targeting
Callisto’s face. “Callisto, I really don’t have time for games. Breen and
Internal Affairs are on their way.”
The chubby face
of Callisto shattered into a pitiful sob. “The money was too good. I couldn’t…I
have four kids.”
“How long have
you been feeding that son of a bitch information? Stealing tissue samples.
Telling him our every move?”
“About a year.
It started with information about Vester.
By the time the whole lake monster thing had come down, I was up to my
eyeballs.”
“You’re the one
who knew when I went in for a physical and had my tissue swiped. You knew when
and where I was so that bitch Autumn could fucking drug me. You helped frame me
as a werewolf. After the Serenity Massacre you were with Stack so you let them know
that they could fit the trick pipe with the drug, right?!”
“Yes.”
Needless wanted
to snap the fat man’s neck. To beat him until he was unrecognizable. But he
couldn’t. He had to find Stack. “Well, I need you to play informant for about
five more minutes.” Callisto nodded. “What is Manzetti’s game? The guy has a shape shifting assassin on his
freaking payroll. He could have taken me and Stack out a long time ago.”
“I only met
with him once. Everything else has been through a go between. Some goblin
accountant.”
“Slith?”
Callisto
nodded. “I met with him just before he kidnapped that reporter.”
“Why did he
want to see you face to face?”
Callisto put
his face in his hands. “He had pictures of my kids. It was a threat. He’s gonna
kill my kids.”
“No he’s not.
Now what did he say?” Callisto continued to cry. Needless lowered the gun.
“Anything!” He grabbed the detective’s shoulders. “Anything that can help
Stack.”
“He’s sick.”
Needless
straightened up. “What?”
“They took me to his home. To his bedroom. The guy is dying. There was all sorts of pain medication. And there’s somebody there with him. Looked like some kind of religious guy.”