Expelled

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  "It doesn't feel right," Merry said, shaking her head. "You've been hunting for him for months. Cameron's guys had the same information we did. And they find him after a couple of days... eating donuts?"

  "I still can't believe the donut thing turned out to be legit," Fred said in a tone of mild disbelief.

  "Apparently he really likes triple fudge with sprinkles," Jayne offered, looking at the information Cameron had sent her again.

  "I didn't even know they made triple fudge donuts."

  "Dark chocolate pastry, fudge icing, hazelnut-chocolate cream filling."

  "Damn. I'd come out of hiding for that too."

  "You don't think that's weird?" Merry interrupted. "That he's out in public after all this time just... getting donuts? He's an academy trained criminal mastermind. There's no way he's just been hiding out all this time, letting the search die down, just waiting for the coast to be clear so he could... visit a third rate donut place in a smogtown slum multiple times."

  "She does have a point," Fred conceded. "Shouldn't he be like, planning world domination or something?"

  "World domination and donuts are not mutually exclusive," Jayne said, refusing to acknowledge the absurdity of the statement. "And Cameron's guys found him before me because there are more of them, and they can afford to just sit on these donut places and wait. Every time I tried to stake one of those places out, Merry demanded I come back to the office and work on another one of her bullshit baby cases."

  "For Christ's sake, Jayne," Merry said, her shoulders slack and her voice heavy with exhaustion.

  "I know, Merry," Jayne interrupted, holding up her hands in a gesture of impatient surrender. "I know. You've told me at least a dozen damn times. I'm an impulsive idiot who's trying to run us into the ground and make myself homeless. I've got it, okay? Message received."

  "Then can you please stop resenting me for it?" Merry asked, her arms open at her sides, helpless. "I'm not just a crazy bitch trying to stop you from hunting Burrett for no reason. I want this business to work. I want us, as a team, to work. And I'm worried about you. You haven't been right since—"

  "Since Burrett escaped," Jayne finished for her. "I know, that's why I want to—"

  "Since you shot Chamberlain."

  Jayne fell silent. Merry stared at her, waiting. Fred looked between the two of them with confusion writ large on his face. Finally Merry pushed away from the desk to reach out to Jayne, who stepped away from her and held up a hand to keep her at bay.

  "I just don't want you to rush into this and end up hurt," Merry said, backing down. "You're my friend, Jayne."

  "...I need both of you for this," Jayne said finally. Merry sighed.

  "Of course I'll help," she said. "Did you really think I wouldn't help?"

  "Thanks," Jayne said stiffly.

  "Uh, so, what's the plan?" Fred asked, eager to move past this awkward bump in the conversation.

  Jayne took a deep breath.

  "We stake out both Cosmos Donut locations," she said. "Me and Cameron are going to watch the one we know he's been to. Fred, you and one of Cameron's guys are going to watch the other. Merry, you'll be camped out nearby getting us the local surveillance footage."

  "I won't be able to get you much," Merry said with a frown. "Level twelve is a slum in a permanent smog bank. There's not a lot of surveillance to start with, and anything I can get is going to have limited range because of the haze."

  "Just do what you can," Jayne said. "Anything is better than nothing. When he shows, whichever team spots him will tail him back to wherever he's staying."

  "We're not going to get him at the donut shop?" Fred asked.

  "No, it's a bad location. Too many ways he could get away, and too many people that might be in danger if it becomes a fight. So we follow him home, call in the backup, and then Cameron and I move in and take him down."

  "Sounds good," Fred agreed.

  "I still don't like it," Merry admitted. "But it's more solid than you just running into the donut place and tackling him I guess."

  "Then we're all set." Jayne nodded, satisfied.

  She was answered by the sound of Fred's stomach growling loudly. She and Merry stared at him, and he grinned sheepishly.

  "...Anyone else craving donuts now?"

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Cosmos Doughnut Shop, L12, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros

  The rhythmic chug of a distorted electric guitar played from the sound system of Cameron's discreet black cruiser, the volume turned down low. The rusted metal walkway they were parked against drifted gently in the hot updraft, rattling against the side of the car.

  "Your taste in music sucks."

  Jayne had her feet up on the dash, nested among empty take out containers; the debris of their long stake out, which was currently well into its third evening. Moisture beaded on the car windows. The night had a sulfur glow where the street lights illuminated the permanent smog. Through the curtain of brown, neon flickered pink and green along the hunched and sullen storefronts of pawn shops, adult video stores, and one dingy donut shop. Jayne made no move to change the music, despite her complaint.

  "This is a classic," Cameron replied, too bored to muster any real indignation. He had his elbow braced on the cruiser window and his head on his fist, his eyes half closed.

  "Who listens to post-grunge, honestly?" Jayne teased. She took the bottle of vending machine iced coffee from between her thighs, opened it, and flicked the plastic cap at him, half just to try and wake him up. "Moody teenage loners who are also grandfathers? This song is older than my mom."

  Cameron yawned, rubbing his eyes, and threw the cap back at her without looking. "We agreed to switch off every hour. You can put up with my old man music for another fifteen minutes."

  "New rule," Jayne said, offering him the coffee. "If you fall asleep you forfeit the rest of your turn. And I wake you up by blasting house remixes of Japanese pop music."

  "And you said my music sucks." Cameron took the coffee reluctantly.

  "Never said mine was better," Jayne chuckled. "But that particular playlist is Fred's fault."

  "Ah, I should have known."

  "Are we criticizing Fred's music tastes?" Merry's voice cut through the music. "Because I am here for that."

  "Any sign of the target?" Jayne asked instead.

  "Not that I can see," Merry replied. "But frankly that's not saying much. My visibility is super limited here. There's maybe ten cameras on this street. Half of those are actually looking at something useful. And every time the wind kicks up I'm pretty much blind for a solid minute until the camera can clear the smog dust off the lens."

  "We are sure that he's going to be here, right?" Jayne asked.

  "My guys saw him here multiple times," Cameron replied. "He'll show up."

  Jayne sighed. Her impatience felt like a sore tooth; a restless discomfort she couldn't ignore or repair, slowly driving her crazy.

  "How's Fred?" she asked instead. "He and Bill holding up alright?"

  "Me and Madison have a bet running on which one of them will snap first," Merry replied. "Either Bill is going to kill him before this stake out is over or they're going to end up best friends. I'm not sure which option is worse."

  "Well, keep me updated if things turn murder-y," Jayne said. "Or, you know. If you spot Burrett."

  "I still can't believe this is where we found him," Cameron said, shaking his head. "I mean, the donut thing I kind of get. But this place? I figured he'd have better taste."

  Above the donut shop, a sign shaped like a comet flickered. It was styled like one of those old retro-modern diners, all chrome and rounded edges and a bulky, neon illuminated jukebox. All of which was crammed into a space that was only slightly larger than Jayne's old dorm room. There was barely enough room for the door to open. There was maybe four square feet of open space between the door and the register on the red and white painted bar.

  The only other space was an aisle maybe two feet acros
s between the three bar stools and the two bulky booths against the wide front window. Clearly, mistakes had been made there. But the shop's aesthetic ambitions had been kneecapped from the start by the rundown location. From the thick, reinforced plate glass of its windows caked in smog-residue, to the torn, peach colored vinyl padding of its booths, it looked almost as skeevy as the video store next to it.

  "I hear the donuts are surprisingly good." Jayne shrugged, scrolling through music options on the dash touch screen. "Also, when you're an escaped criminal hiding out in the slums to avoid surveillance cameras, you take what you can get."

  "Still," Cameron said, shaking his head. "After that long in prison, if donuts were my thing, the first thing I would do would be trying to find the biggest, fanciest, most gourmet donut in the city. Like, the kind of donut that costs as much as a whole meal. The chef, or I guess the baker or whatever… the pastry chef? The pastry chef brings it to your table themselves and it's got, like, gold leaf on it and—"

  "Cameron."

  The sudden alertness in her voice made Cameron cut himself off and return his attention to the donut shop. There was someone approaching, their face obscured by a smog mask. But something about the way he moved set off alarms in Jayne's head.

  "Merry, you have eyes on him?"

  "One second."

  "Merry, is it him?"

  "Fucking smog… hang on, I've got the interior camera for the shop. Where did he come from? I didn't get him on any of the street cameras."

  Jayne watched, tense as a hyenish-hound at the starting line, as the man entered the donut shop, shaking off the smog dust in the doorway. She held her breath, her very heart frozen in her chest, as she watched him reach for his mask. Even from the other side of the street, through the smog and the grimy windows, she knew.

  "It's him," she whispered.

  "Confirmed," Merry said over the radio. "I have a positive visual. That's Burrett. Holy shit."

  Jayne forced the breath she was holding out in a long, shaky exhalation. Every bone in her body was screaming at her to get in there, to catch him now.

  "You good?" Cameron asked, his expression wary. She knew he was ready to stop her if she decided to do something stupid.

  "I'm good," she lied. "We're good. We're fucking great in fact. We're going to tail him back to his hideout and then I'm going to nail his ass to the wall."

  "You mean that metaphorically, right?" Cameron asked.

  "Probably," Jayne said, not certain herself.

  There were three other patrons in the tiny shop, the busiest it ever got. A heavyset bearded man probably on his way to an overnight shift, was sitting on a barstool at the counter. A frazzled looking older woman and a half asleep eight-year-old boy sat in one of the two booths against the front window. Jayne's instinct to protect them from the potential danger Burrett posed warred with her better sense. Confronting him here was much more likely to put people in danger. She could wait.

  "Hey, Cameron?" Merry said suddenly. "That guy of yours, the red head?"

  "Ray?" Cameron replied, looking at the radio in mild confusion.

  "Yeah, that one. You told him to stay at the precinct so that he could lead backup here after we find Burrett's hideout, right?"

  "Yes, but we don’t need backup yet. When we do, I’ll make the call."

  "Well, I've got him on camera right now, heading towards the donut shop."

  "Why the fuck—"

  Jayne grabbed Cameron, directing his attention to where Ray Taylor was currently walking towards the donut shop, moving with a purpose.

  "Oh no," Cameron said, already scrambling to get out of the car. Jayne moved to follow him, her heart a drum beat in her ears as she pulled her smog mask up from the collar of her coat.

  "Wait!" Merry shouted from the radio, making them both hesitate. "You can't go in there!"

  "If Ray blows our cover Burrett could hurt someone!" Jayne argued.

  "If Burrett sees you coming, he definitely will," Merry pointed out. "And we might lose any chance of ever catching him!"

  Jayne wavered, knowing Merry was probably right. Cameron looked to her, waiting for her to decide. Jayne watched the wide grimy windows of the donut shop, just hoping a decision wouldn't be needed.

  +++

  Police Station, L45, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros one hour earlier

  Ray slumped in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He had one eye on the clock and one eye on the comm. He was on his third cup of coffee, second cup with rum mixed in. No one knew he was drinking on the job, but he was hoping someone would find out. It’d be a mark on his record, but wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy. Officers were too hard to come by in Theron Techcropolis, and a cop who doesn’t play by the rules was the reputation Ray was working for. But Ray confused reputation with respect.

  Cameron, Madison and Bill annoyed Ray at every step on the Burrett case. As assigned, Ray had dug up any and all information he could on Burrett. He spent many sleepless nights hacking and scrolling through police archives and dark web hubs of criminal activity. But every insight Ray uncovered was met with casual disregard and polite but empty gratefulness. Jayne and Merry, working closely with Cameron, had beaten him at every turn.

  Ray looked on the bright side. He hoped his inability to churn out stellar deskwork would get him back on the streets.

  At that thought, Ray winced. He was reminded about his first beat. Fresh out of training and in a uniform that still smelled like starch, he had been assigned to ride sidesaddle with Detective Bree Odenkirk.

  Bree had 20 years on the force and a sterling record. In Ray’s first week after training, he joined Bree on a call to a hostage situation. An angry ex-husband holed up with kids he lost in custody. The dad was some high-end bank executive who fell off the deep end after his divorce. Following a week long bender on zether, an upper-class party drug mined by the Belcourt Cartel from the asteroid Zethron B-9, the guy kidnapped his kids and holed them up in his L71 mansion with a semi-automatic Turing Blaster.

  Bree believed in Baptism by fire. She gave Ray orders to flank the right side of the mansion while the target covered the bulk of the force facing him at the front. Meanwhile, she’d take an entrance through the garage.

  Ray was never too good at knowing his right from his left. Bree didn’t have any cover, and the last time Ray saw her she had a charred hole through her head.

  Ray broke down and became a useless field officer. Since then he’d been behind a desk. After begging Cameron to put him on a case, he finally had a chance to prove himself.

  And that wasn’t going to happen unless he made a choice.

  Ray finished his rum and coffee. He grabbed the keys to Cruiser #14 off his desk. He threw on a jacket and told his pals he was running out for a quick bite.

  +++

  Cosmos Doughnut Shop, L12, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros

  Inside the shop, Burrett stood at the counter. He and the cashier laughed about something as he finished paying for his order. The scent of baking dough warred with the stench of acrid smog carried in on the guests’ clothes. The jukebox against the rear wall was playing a pop number from the previous decade, almost too quiet to hear over the hum of the air filters. The man sitting at the counter sipped his coffee and read the news on his tablet. The eight-year-old dozed against the window while his mother wearily scrolled through job postings.

  The front door swung open ninety degrees and hit the jukebox, bouncing off it and chiming belatedly. Ray paused in the narrow entrance way and braced himself on a gumball machine in order to knock the soot from his boots. But his eyes were already on Burrett.

  The air in the room subtly shifted. The cashier, seeming to sense it, went still, her eyes on Ray. The man drinking coffee at the bar paused for a moment then carefully returned his eyes to his tablet. Behind him, in the booth, the mother did the same. Burrett, patiently counting cash to pay for his donuts, did not even glance in Ray's direction.

  Ray leaned casually against the
counter next to Burrett, taking his time, pretending to scan the display of baked goods which filled the wall behind the counter. The harsh white overhead lights washed him out, made him seem younger than he was.

  "What’s good?" he asked. In the artificial light, with a dated party anthem wailing thinly in the background, his attempt at action movie swagger seemed particularly forced.

  Burrett didn't look at Ray. There was an easy smile on his weathered face. He nodded to the cashier, who quietly backed away towards the door to the kitchen.

  "Triple fudge," he replied. "At least, that’s my favorite."

  "Really? I’m surprised anything’s good here. Seems like a real dump," Ray replied, shrugging. "But I guess anything must look good compared to that box the government had you in."

  Burrett paused for beat, then nodded as though in agreement, hanging his head. The light made his thin white hair glow like a halo, or the heart of an explosion. He was leaning on a cheap brown acrylic cane. Slowly, he turned to face Ray, his hands folded on the cane before him. He seemed small, harmless, lost in his oversized tan coat. He smiled like Ray was a beloved grandchild upon whom he was about to bestow sage wisdom and an excess of hard candy.

  "I would advise you to walk away," he said. "But I doubt you would listen. You've already decided what part you think you're playing."

  He waved a hand for Ray to continue. Ray frowned, but didn't back down.

  "Let's make this easy, old man," he said, shifting his coat to flash the gun on his belt. "You turn this into a fight and you're gonna break a hip. I don't feel like beating up grandpa today. So just come quietly. I'll tell the Cheif you cooperated, put in a good word for you. Maybe they make sure you stay on the books this time, go to a proper prison with regulations and shit, instead of disappearing you back into that hole you climbed out of. Nobody needs to get hurt."

  Burrett laughed, brief and quiet and genuine.

  "I think there are some who would disagree with you there," he said. "But yes. Let's make this easy."