~
Hall stared at the apartment complex, her head resting against the window, her mind a torrent of emotions. Lex was using her uncle to stay hidden; she was sure of it. The only reason she had stayed her hand and not arrested him was the fact she’d been there under false pretences. If she was wrong, and his slip-up had been nothing more than confusion caused by his grief and hurt, she’d be kicked off the force; her feet barely touching the ground as she was slung out onto the street.
As she gazed at the drab building with the pleasant interior, she couldn’t help shake the distinct feeling she was being manoeuvred like a pawn on a chessboard by hands invisible to her; a wraith hidden behind the curtain. She thought she could see Geno Moretti’s silhouette at his window from amidst the gloom of his niece’s apartment.
He was involved, she knew it.
She had to tell Mercer; in spite of the ass-kicking he’d dole out in her direction. She didn’t care; the truth was all that mattered. She was an officer of the law and a child’s murder has gone unanswered. It was her job to protect the citizens of this city and she’d be damned if anyone, superior or otherwise, was going to stop her.
Fuck it, she thought. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. She wasn’t going to make any headway by moping and filling her head with self-doubt. She scrolled through her list of contacts on the dash display screen. However, before she could make the call, the screen flashed. It was an incoming call from an unknown number. She pushed the green answer box.
“Hall,” she said.
“Investigator Hall, it’s Banks, from NewHaven.”
What the fuck did he want? “Can I help you?” she asked, barely able to conceal the contempt and mistrust from her tone.
“Cut the crap, Hall. I know you and the rest of your department can’t stand me,” he snapped. “Where are you?”
If she was reluctant to tell her boss where she was, the spook had no chance. “On patrol, Mr Banks.”
“Oh, really?” he said, sarcastically. “I’m currently in the city centre heading for your boss’ house. I have some information on Reid I’d like to share with you.” He paused, his breath rasping down the line. He sounded nervous. “Look, I can’t say too much, I don’t trust the security on this line. I’ll be honest with you, Hall, things have gone tits up at NewHaven, and I’ve had enough. Can I trust you?”
She remained silent for a moment, thinking. She didn’t know this guy and besides, he was a spook. They lurked in the murkier areas of society; areas where lies spewed from mouths as naturally as she drew breath.
In the end, however, her curiosity got the better of her. “I’ll meet you there in an hour,” she said, cutting the call.
She called Mercer. He answered after the first dialling tone. “Hall?”
“Yeah, sir. I’ve had the spook on the line.”
“That makes two of us. He called me about ten minutes ago. He wants to discuss Reid. He sounded rattled. Where are you?”
“I’m outside the Moretti apartment,” she said, not bothering to come up with a lie. She knew she would tell him eventually.
He sighed in irritation. “Fuck’s sake, Hall. I told you to go home.” He let out a small chuckle. “In spite of your insubordination, I Can’t say I’m not impressed.”
She smiled at the compliment. “Sorry, sir. Thought I’d check it out.”
“Your intrepid nature’s going to get you into some serious shit one of these days.”
“The way this case is going, sir, I think that day could be very soon.”
“How long are you going to be?”
“I said to the spook an hour. I’ll be at your house in thirty minutes.”
“Good, I’ll see you in thirty,” he said, cutting the call.
Hall switched on the ignition and barrelled out of the street in a hail of dust and screeching tyres.
~
Geno watched through the fog of cigarette smoke as Investigator Hall’s cruiser screeched down the street. He took a long drag as the kids, playing across the street, ran in its direction, pointing and shouting. He looked down at Bruno, his brows furrowed with concern. His little dog gazed up at him, tongue lolling from its mouth, tail wagging. “Don’t think she was being entirely honest, was she, boy?”
Although the young investigator had claimed she was from missing persons, Geno had noted her badge had stated otherwise; reading homicide. He wondered what she’d been thinking of showing him her badge. Surely it must have dawned on her that he was the uncle of an experienced SPD investigator – or was, he corrected himself. It begged the question as to why a homicide investigator was poking her nose around a missing person’s case. If she’d mentioned it was linked to Julian’s murder, he would have understood the direction her line of enquiries had taken her. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d told him she wasn’t investigating the murder, just his niece’s disappearance.
He peered at the empty space where her cruiser had sat, wondering what the true motivations were for her visit to the projects. In many ways, she reminded Geno of Alexandra; they had the same tenacity; a similar attitude towards law enforcement – though, Alexandra’s had soured over the last couple of years.
Before…
He stubbed his cigarette out, leaving it smouldering in the ashtray. He made his way to the rear of the apartment, towards the back bedroom. The room hadn’t been touched since Julian. The dust had been left to settle, covering everything in a faint sheet. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. He deliberately averted his gaze to the boy’s bed and toys. He didn’t trust the brittle shroud of numbness he’d begun to slowly build within himself to be able to withstand the wave of grief that would surely and inevitably wash over him if his eyes lingered too long.
On the far wall sat a picture frame. Julian’s beautiful blue eyes stared at him from behind the murky glass. He removed the frame from its hook, already feeling that familiar fluttering of emotions trying to rise up from his insides. He closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself, before reverently laying it down on the floor, the image facing the wall.
A small red button sat flush with the plaster of the wall. He pushed it. Clicks and rattles from several locking mechanisms released, then a section of wall, to the right of the button, slid up into the ceiling to reveal a small room bathed in red, artificial light. He stepped inside, flicking a lever situated on a stanchion. The door slid back down, secluding him inside the claustrophobic space.
The secret room was bare, save for a table which sat against the far wall. On it sat a single item; a scribe. He picked it up and placed his thumb onto the cold screen. It flashed blue before emitting the image of a pretty blonde, her long wavy hair pulled around one shoulder and tied in a green ribbon. The image brought on a pang of sorrow as he began to traverse through the maze of files. After several password entries – to gain access to a secure line – he found the contact he was looking for. He knew the recipient wouldn’t answer, but he pushed it anyway. It always worked this way. He waited until the voicemail asked him to leave a message.
“An investigator from the SPD just paid me a visit, looking for information regarding the disappearance of Alexandra Moretti. She wasn’t forthcoming with her true motives; said she was from missing persons, but I saw her badge. She’s homicide. Last I knew, the SPD doesn’t give free rein for their investigators to bounce between departments willy-nilly. She’d either rogue and not working within traditional SPD parameters, or she genuinely wants to help, but has no idea what she’s getting herself into… something I think you can relate to. May be worth looking into. Her name’s Veronica Hall.”
XXVI
Traffic had been light, which was no surprise given the route to Captain Mercer’s home skirted around the city centre, avoiding the higher concentrations of congestion. The clustered, tightly-packed apartments of the projects slowly dissipated to larger, more spaciously separated homes; two – and three-story bespoke condos, tailor-made for citizens with sizeable bank ac
counts.
Cruisers and luxury transportation hubs began to increase in number the further she got. She also noticed the sky wasn’t as cluttered with as many Zeps – a fair majority of the city’s Zep owners probably lived in this quadrant – ironically, they didn’t feel compelled to have their hideous monstrosities looming above their own neatly trimmed lawns and collections of expensive cruisers.
She passed maintenance crews carrying out gardening duties; street cleaning; and general repairs – the latest up-to-date droids and equipment at their disposal. As she made brief glances towards the decadent properties, she was in no doubt their occupants were a few classes above the likes of Geno Moretti – as well as herself, come to that.
“That’s if she wants to be found…” The old man’s words had been playing on a loop in her mind since she’d left his apartment. It hardly stretched the imagination to assume he was – or had been until her unfortunate plunge into the river – harbouring the woman. She was surprised he hadn’t been hauled in before now… but then again, they hadn’t known ‘the woman’ was Alexandra Moretti until now. The development would certainly give her a buffer when the captain gave her the dressing down, she fully expected.
She turned right, by a sizeable mall. Prime Groceries was emblazoned in gold above its main entrance. An image of pristine aisles; their polished floors glistening and shelves containing the very best produce, patrolled by the cream of Sanctum-One’s citizenship and their snot-nosed broods. She’d once made the mistake of buying a bottle of wine from one of the wine merchants within a similar high-end mall. It had cost her four times as much as the local store she frequented, near her apartment – though, the quality was a damn sight better than the gut-rot she usually purchased.
It wasn’t just the expense that she’d noticed. She’d felt the mall’s regular clientele had known she didn’t belong, making her feel like an interloper encroaching on their space.
She traversed the quiet streets for another five minutes before pulling up in front of the captain’s home. She surveyed the clock on her dash. The journey had taken twenty-eight minutes. It was amazing how her surroundings had changed so dramatically in such a short trip.
She cut the power and climbed out. The street was like a ghost town; there was barely a sound, save for the distant hissing of sprinklers watering a few of the neighbouring lawns. She walked up the path, wondering if the spook had beaten her to Mercer’s – she couldn’t bring herself to believing him when he’d said it would take him an hour to reach the captain’s home. She glanced back to see if Banks’ cruiser was in the vicinity, then remembered she didn’t know what type or colour of vehicle he drove.
She knocked on the captain’s door; rattling the heavy lump of iron – shaped in the image of a dolphin – against its base. The clash of metal sounded all the louder amidst the quiet of the street. The door opened a crack… had it been left open? Maybe Mercer had seen her pull up and unlocked it so she could let herself in. But if he’d done that, why not just wait by the door?
“Captain,” she called. There was no answer from within. Cold dread began to creep up her spine, as her steadily increasing paranoia worked overdrive. She pushed the door open, the hinges creaking. “Banks.” Still nothing.
She reached down and unclipped the strap which held her sidearm securely in its holster. She slowly drew her gun; the weight of it reassuring. Before she even considered venturing further into the captain’s home, she took a quick glance to the street, behind her; it was still bereft of activity.
She didn’t like this, not one bit. Though the captain’s door had been left unlocked, it wasn’t really cause for alarm. This was a good neighbourhood; she imagined the crime rates in this sector of the city were almost non-existent – maybe people here weren’t as vigilant about locking their front doors as they would be in her own street. She wasn’t convinced; one thing the last couple of days had taught her – especially with this case – was that the unexpected could easily be closer than anticipated.
The rational part of her mind tried to provide her with a simple explanation, but each one was shot down by the paranoid part – growing stronger by the minute. Maybe he just popped out, she thought, then dismissed the suspicion as his cruiser was still parked in the driveway. She knew he didn’t have a dog – even if he did, he was hardly going to go for a hike with it if he was expecting her company. The mall was also out of the question as it was a bit far to walk – besides if he wanted anything, he probably would’ve asked her to drop in on the way.
She stepped inside, her boots thumping audibly on the hardwood flooring. She held the gun up, peering along its barrel. Her finger hovered over the trigger, as she ventured further down the hall, step by step. When she got halfway down the hallway – making quick visuals in each room she passed – she heard a faint groan.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on its origin. She remained still for what seemed like an excruciatingly long time – and for a moment – thought she’d maybe imagined it. Then the whine of someone in pain resounded once more; this time louder. It came from the room at the very end; its door lay slightly ajar.
She pressed her back against the wall and slid along it, wincing each time a floorboard creaked. When she reached the door, she stopped, trying to listen for any sign of there being someone on the other side of it, waiting for her. There was nothing; no shuffle from agitated feet; no movement of shadows beneath the small crack of space at the foot of the door. Satisfied, she gave the door a firm kick with the sole of her boot.
It swung open violently, cracking against the wall. It bounced back, but she stopped it with the palm of her hand. She looked into the room and gasped as she spotted Captain Mercer, sitting against the far wall, his white shirt awash with blood. A rank odour washed over her, like rotting meat. She ignored it and raced over towards him, kneeling down by his side. Her knee rested in a pool of her captain’s blood. It soaked through the fabric of her trousers. It felt warm and there was a lot of it, she thought grimly.
“Captain, can you hear me?” she said, cupping his face. His head felt heavy as it lolled in her hands. His eyes fluttered open, then closed again in a flash of white. He groaned, a trickle of blood spilling from his mouth. His skin was hot and clammy – not a good sign. A sheen of sweat plastered his brow and his hair was soaked through. She looked down at his torso; several gunshot wounds peppered his stomach and chest. She was amazed he was still conscious. “I’m going to call for medical assistance, sir. I’ll call for back up.”
She fumbled in her jacket for her scribe, then pause… where was that smell coming from? She turned her head; her eyes flitting about the room in search of the smell’s origin. She soon found it. She suppressed a gag. In the corner of the room, was the body of Alon Reid… or to be exact, what was left of him. He was naked; his entire body a butchered mess. The sight caused her insides to twist in disgust. His face looked like it had been stripped by a razor. His teeth grinned from a lipless mouth and his eye sockets stared back at her; wide and black. She leant away from her boss and vomited on the rug.
In between retches, she could hear the sound of sirens as they drew closer. When she’d heaved up as much as her body would allow, she raised herself back to a kneeling position, feeling hollow and lightheaded. She took off her jacket and used it to try and stem the flow of blood leaking out from the myriad of holes which peppered Mercer’s body. It felt futile, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Heavy footfalls thumped down the hall. She looked up to find several armed officers, piling into the room; pointing their assault rifles in her direction. They bellowed orders for her to step away from the captain. “We need medical assistance… the captain… he’s hurt bad… he needs help immediately,” she cried.
“Step away from the captain, now,” said one of the armed officers.
Before she could reply with a tirade of abuse towards the trigger-happy morons, another voice called out to her… one she recognised.
�
�Step away from Captain Mercer, Hall, before these officers rip you full of holes. You’re in enough shit as it is,” Banks said, pushing his way past the armed response unit.
“What are you talking about?” she cried, feeling helpless and confused. She looked down at the captain who’d stopped breathing; his chest still; his eyes wide open. He was dead.
Banks closed the gap between them. “I’m arresting you for the murders of Investigator Alon Reid and Captain Ryan Mercer. For conspiring with the woman, resulting in the deaths of several Sanctum-One citizens.”
Tears streamed down her face; her features the very mask of confusion. Banks took one more step, raised his arm, and struck her across the temple with a small baton he’d been holding. Her head whipped to the side as the world began to spin.
The last thing she saw before the darkness took her, was the sly grin on the spook’s face.
XXVII
Neon Revenge Page 15
