by Simon Haynes
"Are you using the old Peace Force station?"
"What am I, a public information booth?" That was one of Bernie's, but to be fair, the robot did look like an information booth. A very large one, with legs.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. My company does maintenance work, and I figured you might need a few repairs. That old station hasn't been touched for years."
The man slipped his hand into his overalls, and Alice drew her gun. "Steady there, sunshine."
He froze, staring at her in shock. "I'm … I'm just getting a business card."
"Slowly."
He drew out a plastic rectangle and offered it to her. "I'm Mike Dantriss. I fix things."
"Leave it on the counter."
"Okay, okay." Mike obeyed, placing the card on the wooden counter before retreating two or three steps. "Are you people always this jumpy?"
"Cautious, not jumpy."
"Just … don't shoot. Okay?"
Alice picked up the card and glanced at it. The man was apparently Mike Dantriss, and, if the card was genuine, he really did run a maintenance business. "Thanks. I'll be in touch if we need anything."
The shop owner returned, carrying a sleek, modern commset, and Alice hid the gun behind her back. Mike paid up, and with a nod to Alice, left the shop. While the owner was putting away the payment, Alice slipped the gun into her uniform.
"Now," said the owner. "About that trade. Three hundred for—"
"I don't want a trade, I want to upgrade it. Add a few features … you know."
"You know I can't do that. It's illegal to unlock—"
"I can come back without the uniform," said Alice. "Would that help?"
"Ten for the next tier, thirty for complete access." The woman looked her up and down. "That's my best price, I swear."
"Complete access it is." Alice put her commset on the counter. "How long?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Make it ten."
"Fifteen."
"I'll be back in ten."
"Then you'll have to wait five minutes when you get here, won't you?" The woman took Alice's commset and vanished out the back.
Alice left the workshop feeling pleased. She'd been trying to find someone to unlock her commset in Dismolle, but Birch was the only person she knew with the right contacts, and she knew he'd tell Harriet. The pair of them treated her like a wayward daughter sometimes, instead of a member of the team.
Whistling tunelessly, she continued to the next shop, which sold spares for robots. The display windows were full of arms and legs, chest plates and heads, all nestled on faded velvet with little price tags carefully tied to each piece. Alice walked in, and a balding man behind the counter took one look at her before fleeing out the back.
"It's not a raid!" shouted Alice. "I don't care if all your stuff is bent!"
The man came back sheepishly. "Sorry, I thought I heard the kettle boiling."
"Two men in their twenties. One blond, one with dark hair. Seen them?"
The man shook his head.
"Really?" Alice noticed beads of sweat on his forehead, and on a hunch she tried pressing him. "We've got them down the station right now, and they've just given us a list of the shops they hit. We're trying to give the cash back, but if they haven't been here I can't help you." So saying, she turned to leave.
"Wait! They were here this morning."
Alice hid a smile. "How much did you pay?"
"Two thousand a week, that's what they were after."
"That's not what I asked."
"Five hundred," said the man. "It was all I had, barring pocket change."
"Right, well when we catch them I'll make sure it's returned to you."
"Wait … you mean they're still out there?"
"Sure."
"You said they were at the station! You said they were locked up!"
"I guess your kettle drowned my voice out, eh?" Alice eyed him thoughtfully. "When are they coming back?"
"Next week," said the man shortly.
"Well, if we haven't caught them by then, my team will stake this place out. So relax, Mr …"
"Stammit."
"Relax, Mr Stammit. Leave everything to the Peace Force."
"And I thought they'd left everything to us," muttered Stammit.
Outside, Alice looked up and down the street. There was another store further up the road, and she decided to try there before meeting up with the others.
Chapter 5
"Here you are, dear. Help yourself to the biscuits, too."
Harriet took the delicate floral cup with its matching saucer, and selected one of the chocolate biscuits to go with her tea. She thought it was just as well Alice wasn't there, or the whole plateful would have been vacuumed up in seconds.
"So how's life treating you?" Birch asked Timms.
"Don't ask."
"I just did, sir."
Timms sighed. "I thought I'd set myself up as a private detective after they binned me, but …" she spread her hands. "Nothing doing."
"Nobody hiring?"
"No cases at all. Not even grubby little affairs, and I wouldn't have touched those for ten times the money." Timms banged her fist on the coffee table, making them all jump. "I am so angry about this afternoon. No, I'm furious!"
"We'll catch them," Harriet reassured her.
"That's not the point. I left poor old Rose alone with those thugs. I should have stayed and knocked their fat heads together, that's what I should have done!"
Harriet hid a smile. Timms was eighty if she was a day, and the mental image of the old woman beating up two fit young men, whilst wearing her huge black hat and overcoat, was too much. She coughed politely, and sipped the tea. Then she coughed for real.
"Oh, that must be mine," said Timms, and she swapped cups. "I put a little something in to take the chill off."
A little! thought Harriet. Her tea had been laced with enough alcohol to power Alice's new ship.
"Don't beat yourself up, sir," said Birch gently. "If you'd tackled those men, you'd be in hospital right alongside Lefty. Your job was to raise the alarm, and that's exactly what you did."
"Thanks, sergeant. That's kind of you, but it should never have happened."
"Did you get a good look at the men?" asked Harriet.
"I didn't want to stare at them, but I did get a detail or two."
Harriet's heart sank. She'd been hoping for more.
Meanwhile, Timms rummaged in her bag until she found a notebook. "Here we are. This is today's incident." So saying, she tore off the top page and handed it to Harriet.
On the page, in dense writing, was everything from the men's estimated height, build and distinguishing marks, to their eye colour, the shape of their faces, and a description of their clothes and jewellery. "A few details, you said."
"It would have been more, but I didn't have a lot of time." Timms turned to Birch. "I heard a rumour you'll be interested in. It seems an old friend may have returned to our fair city."
"Oh yes?" said Birch, his expression guarded.
"Anita Darting."
"That woman is no friend of mine," growled Birch.
Harriet eyed them both. Was Anita his ex? Then, seeing the expression on Birch's face, she decided not to ask.
"Well, it seems she's come back to her old stamping grounds," said Timms. "I thought it might be relevant to your case."
"You can't be serious!" protested Birch. "Surely she's learned her lesson by now?"
"She went away for a long time, but … well, some people are just so stubborn, aren't they?"
"If she is behind this protection racket—" began Birch.
Harriet realised this wasn't some private matter. "Who's Anita Darting?"
"A nasty piece of work." Birch eyed his cup, a frown creasing his forehead. "She had her fingers in every crooked pie in the city. Extortion, money laundering, drugs, weapons, you name it. Caused havoc for years, until …"
"Birch put her away," explained Timm
s.
"The lives she ruined … jail was too good for her," growled Birch.
"She certainly ruined yours," said Timms gently.
"That's ancient history," snapped Birch. "I should have done the job properly. A couple of shots in a dark alley … she wouldn't have come back from that, not in this lifetime."
"Now now, sergeant. Don't give this young trainee the wrong idea about the Peace Force."
"So what happened? What did she do?" asked Harriet. She looked at Birch apologetically. "I don't want to pry, but if this woman is a suspect …"
Birch looked unhappy, but he nodded at Timms.
"She was responsible for Birch getting kicked off the force," said the captain. "She was splashing money around, bribing any number of officers, and he blew the whistle."
"They were as crooked as she was," muttered Birch.
"Yes, but you made a lot of people unhappy."
"Wait," said Harriet. "Dave exposed them, and they fired him?"
"He made the top brass look bad. They decided an early retirement was in order."
"You never told me this!" said Harriet, staring at Birch.
"It wasn't relevant."
"It was a travesty, that's what it was," said Timms.
"Ancient history, like I said," muttered Birch. He gestured impatiently. "If she is back, we must stop her."
"Be careful," Timms advised him. "You're not exactly in the flush of youth. And these trainees are greener than my lawn."
"So we're going to need help," said Birch. "Is there anyone left from the old days? Anyone we can use?"
"Now you're asking." Timms puffed out her cheeks. "You could try the Residents' Association. They'd have records, maybe contact details."
Harriet cursed under her breath. "Sorry, it's just … I've dealt with the Dismolle lot, and they're awful."
"Oh, I agree. But when there's no choice you just have to make the best of it." Timms offered her the biscuits. "Incidentally, I have a favour to ask."
"Sure."
"When you find their grubby little nest I want you to bring me in, okay? I may not be up to the physical any more, but I can hold a gun."
"It's going to be dangerous," said Harriet doubtfully.
Timms gazed at her, her eyes shrewd and sharp. "I spent forty years on the Force, my dear. I know what danger is."
"Sorry." Harriet nodded. "Yes, of course you can help."
Timms smiled at her. "Thank you. Now, take the rest of these biscuits, won't you? I'm sure young Alice will appreciate them."
— ♦ —
Harriet and Birch stepped out of the cab and took a flight of polished marble steps to the head office of the Chirless Residents' Association. Harriet knew they had the right place, because the title was picked out in gold lettering on the doors, and again on the the lintel above the entrance.
"They're not short of a bob or two," muttered Birch, eying the gleaming lettering.
"It's the same in Dismolle," said Harriet. "They've got plenty of money, they just don't seem to do anything with it. Nothing except build grand palaces to rule from."
The doors swept open, and they walked into a cool, spotless lobby. Downlights gleamed off the marble flooring, and there was a lounge nearby with comfortable armchairs and thick carpeting. Liveried robots waited on a handful of guests, who were enjoying coffee and cake. There was a smattering of conversation, the voices hushed.
"I though it was an association, not an upmarket coffee shop," murmured Birch.
"Yes, well, they can't rule on empty stomachs." Harriet led the way to the front desk, where a receptionist was busy with a call.
"No, we can't help you. I'm sorry, but this is the Residents' Association, not a private security firm. And the same to you, sir." The woman banged the handset down and looked at Harriet and Birch angrily. "Yes?" Then she saw their uniforms, and her face cleared. "At last! Our members have been demanding action for several days now, and you've finally showed up."
"We have?"
"Yes. The rates are eighty-five per day, with a twenty credit allowance for meals. Health insurance is not included, but we'll pay for dressings and bandages."
Mystified, Harriet could only stare at her. "What are you talking about?"
"You're the private security company, right? You've come to deal with all these complaints."
"No, we're the Peace Force. We're here to speak with your … manager? Your leader, in any case."
"Oh, that's impossible. Ms Foster is very busy at the moment."
Harriet felt a shiver up her spine. "You don't mean Agatha Foster?"
"That's right."
"But she's supposed to be head of the Dismolle branch!" protested Harriet. She'd had a run-in with Foster before, and the idea of facing the tough old battleaxe again was almost too much to bear.
"She is."
"So what's she doing in Chirless?" said Harriet desperately.
"Our Ms Wilson is on leave, and Ms Foster kindly agreed to step in."
Then Harriet remembered something, and it didn't make her any happier. The last time Foster had come by the Dismolle station she'd insisting on meeting their commanding officer. Since they didn't have one, Birch had put on a high-ranking uniform and covered for them.
"I believe Agatha Foster will remember me," said Birch to the receptionist. "Tell her Superintendent Birch is here, from the Dismolle Peace Force."
The receptionist stared at him. So did Harriet.
"Any time," said Birch. "No rush."
The receptionist grabbed her handset and started talking. Meanwhile, Harriet leaned closer to Birch. "What are you playing at? You're wearing a sergeant's uniform!"
"I'm surprised you know the difference, trainee."
Harriet shut up, and at that moment the receptionist set the handset in its cradle. "She's very busy, like I said, but she can squeeze you in at half past."
"But that's forty minutes!" protested Harriet. "This could be life or death!"
"Well, everyone else made an appointment."
"Fine," muttered Harriet. "Next time an axe-wielding maniac is chopping down your front door, be sure to make an appointment with the Peace Force. We'll attend to it as soon as it's convenient."
Birch led her away, and they took a seat at one of the dining tables. A waiter approached immediately. "Can I take your order, sir or madam?"
"Two coffees, thanks."
"Certainly. And may I see your membership card?"
"Sorry, left it in my other uniform," said Harriet.
"And you, sir or madam?"
Birch gestured. "I don't have one."
"In that case, I cannot serve you. Please vacate the area."
"Or what?" demanded Harriet.
"Or I shall have to call someone."
"Go ahead. Call Agatha Foster. She'll get rid of us."
"Two coffees, coming right up," said the robot, and it left at the double.
"You're in a mood," remarked Birch.
Harriet jerked her thumb at the lobby. "This sort of thing really annoys me. The marble tiling in this place would keep our Peace Force office running for a year. And don't get me started on the robot waiters, and this dining room."
"Envy?"
"No, I don't begrudge anyone a bit of luxury. I just think the people of Chirless could put all this money to better use." Harriet frowned. "It's not just that. I feel like I'm sitting outside the headmaster's office, waiting to get told off."
"Aha."
"What?"
"Enjoy school, did you?"
"Not much, no."
"I got that," said Birch. "I imagine you were a bit of a rebel."
"A bit! If it wasn't for Auntie I'd have ended up like Alice. Before she joined the Force, I mean," Harriet added hurriedly.
"Oh, she still has her rough edges."
"I'm guessing she has my gun as well," muttered Harriet. She decided to change the subject. "Tell me about this Anita Darting woman."
"Not much to say. She ran the underw
orld around these parts. Anyone who stood up to her simply disappeared." Birch had a distant look in his eyes. "We lost a couple of good people like that."
"Where was she based?"
"I see what you're thinking, but she's too smart to take up her old haunts. She'll have found an old factory or something, and she'll be paying cash under the table to the owner, so forget about tracing her through financial records."
"You said she was on a prison planet, so she must have arrived here on a ship."
"She wouldn't have travelled under her own name. In fact, she probably hitched a ride on a freighter. No paperwork at all."
"Slippery customer."
"We'll have our work cut out."
"Thanks," said Harriet, with a smile.
"For what?"
"You said 'we' might have our work cut out. You might easily have said 'you'."
Birch grinned. "Well, I'm hoping you'll go in first and draw their fire, while I come in afterwards and get all the glory."
Harriet looked at him, eyebrows raised, and saw he was teasing her. She laughed and shook her head. "If you're looking for a hot-headed, impulsive trainee to rush your enemies, speak to Alice. In any case, she's the one with the firepower."
Chapter 6
Alice strolled up to the shop entrance, and as she passed the front windows she noticed the store sold second-hand furniture. The door opened at her approach, and she walked in past a side table laden with glass vases and porcelain jugs. The store was crammed with furniture, with chairs stacked on tables, aisles full of wardrobes, rows of sofas and more.
Alice looked around for the owner, who came darting out from behind the counter at that moment, looking highly agitated. He was elderly, stooped, but he was almost running, and as he approached Alice he put his hands out to ward her away. "No, no! You can't be here! You have to leave, right now!"
"Don't order me around," said Alice, with a frown.
The man was so panicky he was wringing his hands. "You don't understand. They're coming back any second. If they see the Peace Force here … anything could happen!"
A shadow fell across the storefront, and Alice turned to see a black van pulling up outside. There was a thunder of booming bass, and she could here someone swearing at the top of their voice … almost in time to the music.
