“Pull us over, right here,” Bronte ordered the autocab.
Salvi glanced around but didn’t see the club. She looked at Bronte questioningly.
“We don’t want to look like this is planned,” he said. “Let’s make it seem like we stumbled on the place.”
She nodded, and they exited the vehicle. Standing on the sidewalk in her ridiculous heels and glowing mesh dress, she looked at the row of lights either side of the street. Bar after bar, club after club. Something for everyone.
They did their best to appear a little like tourists, looking around at everything as though it were new. Of course Salvi was subtly eyeing everyone on the streets as well, searching for signs of neural devices, for hints that anyone was souped-up on Fyte. Or Flyte… But what would someone look like on Flyte exactly?
Myki Natashi sprung to her mind, and she was sure now the Myki they’d found in that bed had been a Myki coming down from Flyte. Still, as she looked around now, she saw no one fitting that description. Perhaps it was too early. Perhaps it hadn’t spread that far and wide yet. It gave her hope they could stop this before it spiraled further.
They approached Floor to Ceiling. From the outside, it appeared to be five stories high and she wondered whether the fifth floor was actually the ‘basement’, or if it was just the club offices. Either way, if the fourth floor was the Ceiling, it wasn’t literal. The fifth floor was the true ceiling.
The building itself, from the outside, was a site to behold. Its entire façade was made of digital screens that rolled some kind of arty film selling clubbers the dream of what they would find inside. Lights flashed, drinks were filled, heels danced on glowing nightclub floors, people smiled and laughed, lips kissed. Every now and then holograms appeared, projected from the walls, of the young and beautiful, beckoning pedestrians inside with the curl of a finger and a playful smile. A night of fun was on offer, and they were selling it with a very healthy dose of sex appeal.
“Let’s try this one,” she said loudly to Bronte, pointing at it, playing the part.
“Alright. Let’s do it,” he smiled at her.
They moved to where four burly security guards stood policing entry. They wore synthetic suits and full-face helmets made of some kind of high spec clear plastic, and they carried automatic tasers with battery packs at their side. Though Salvi was still uncomfortable that club bouncers were allowed to carry weapons like that now, their tasers had been the trade-off when California tightened its gun laws. The occasional person died of heart failure from being tased, but a lot fewer people died of bullet wounds now.
Salvi and Bronte stood behind the small queue looking to get in. The queue was moving fast, as it wasn’t taking the security long to decide if those in line were eligible for entry. Salvi saw one couple walk straight past the queue, flash some kind of card to the guards, and be waved right on through. She straightened as she realized it was similar to the card that Caine had pulled from his desk drawer that time. She wondered which floor the couple were headed to.
A guy in line before them was turned away by one of the security. When he tried to protest, the guard simply pointed at his shoes. Apparently they were the wrong kind. Huffing, the guy stormed off, as the guard turned his eyes to Salvi. He looked her up and down, then Bronte, and waved them on through.
Salvi smiled at the guard, then exchanged a quick glance with Bronte, before they stepped inside, however they soon learned they had to progress one at a time to clear the secondary security measures.
“Hold,” an attractive young woman behind the cloak check said, holding up her tattooed hand. She glanced at a screen, then waved Salvi closer. “Okay, step forward.”
Salvi looked at the rectangular box before her, and knew it was a scanner. She stepped onto the plate, pressed her fake ID against the console on the wall and held still while the machine scanned her for weapons, and a separate laser confirmed her face to match the ID. She hoped to hell the IDs provided by the Cyber division were good enough to stand up.
Turns out they were. The woman ushered her forward and asked if she’d like to check her coat. Salvi agreed and handed it to her, while Bronte underwent the scan.
When they were both cleared, the woman asked them to each hold out their wrist and stamped them with invisible ink, telling them they now had access to the first floor.
As she stepped inside the club, aptly titled Ground Zero, the music reverberated inside Salvi’s chest, rattling her bones. She marveled at the soundproofing, given she could not hear this outside the building. Spread out before her, the club appeared to be split in half. To the right were tables where clubbers could enjoy the music while eating a five-star dinner, in dim lighting. To the left was the main club with a dance floor in the middle, where lights flashed and swirled, with lounges and booths spread along its periphery. There was a definite color theme to Ground Zero, as everything was bathed in a neon pink.
Bronte, playing the part, grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd toward the bar which sat nestled between the two areas. They ordered drinks from the handsome waitstaff, dressed in glowing pink outfits, similar to Salvi’s, then they turned around to scan the place for somewhere to sit.
“So,” Salvi said leaning over to yell in Bronte’s ear, “I guess we just find a spot and look like we’re having a good time, right?”
He nodded, then broke into a smile and a laugh like she’d said something funny. “That’s it. Except places like this were never my thing, so we’re gonna test my acting skills tonight.”
“That’s alright,” Salvi smiled. “I’ve been in a few like this over the years. Give me a few drinks and I’m sure it will all come back to me.”
Bronte looked at her curiously.
“I had a life before becoming a cop,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she smiled again, “and that’s all you need to know about that.” She hooked her arm through his and led him away from the bar.
Hours had passed and Salvi and Bronte were starting to feel a little buzzed, but doing a good job at acting more drunk than they were. It helped to take their drinks to the bathroom, tip a little out and fill them up with water. Still, to keep up the façade, they needed to keep going to the bar. They were good at pulling each other up if either had their cop face on, carefully studying the other patrons. A tap on the arm, a pat on the knee, a nudge with the elbow, or flashing each other a huge smile, would soon remind the other of their cover.
The patrons themselves were young and beautiful, as to be expected. Most of them were trying too hard, though, Salvi thought. Clearly, these were the ones who hadn’t made it to the other levels yet and were desperate to do so. Nothing raised demand like exclusivity. As she glanced around, she saw some that didn’t look of age, but she wasn’t here to bust kids.
She pictured Caine’s Hollywood smile, could see why he was chosen for this gig. She tried to channel him, tried to think what he’d done to make it up to the Ceiling, but figured he was probably just his handsome self and made others flock to his flame. But she wasn’t Caine. She tended to shut people out, not draw them in, so she was going to have to either change her manner or find her own way inside.
Bronte nudged her elbow. She’d had her cop face on again. She brightened and held up her empty glass to him seductively. He smiled, took it then headed to the bar.
Bronte, it turned out, was the first to make friends. He was at the bar getting drinks when he started chatting to two women, overdressed for the club, if that were possible, looking like perhaps they should be in some kind of ballroom instead. They spoke for a while, before he motioned over to Salvi, smiled and waved. Salvi returned the smile and wave. Next thing she knew, Bronte was bringing the women over to sit with them.
Unfortunately, it turned out they were tourists from Montana, so unlikely to be leads in this case. Still, they drank with them, they laughed, and Salvi even encouraged Bronte to get the two women up dancing. She sat back, fighting hard to contai
n her amusement as she watched the women sandwiching him on the floor.
And it was then that Salvi noticed someone staring at her.
She turned to see a man sitting alone in a booth. He didn’t try to hide that he’d been watching her. He looked to be late 40s, his long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, black synthetic jacket shining in the lights. He raised his drink to her, so she raised hers back. She played it cool, though, moving her eyes back to the dance floor and around at the other patrons. Every now and then, though, she glanced back to the man in the booth. Their eyes would connect, and she did her best to make hers inviting.
Of course, with her glowing green dress she stood out in the darkness between the flashing lights. Still, the way he kept looking at her, Salvi knew he wasn’t drawn to her dress.
After a while the man stood and began to approach her. He was maybe 5’10, with a medium build that weighed maybe 175lbs. She waited patiently, but then… he walked straight past her toward one of the security guards standing in front of red velvet curtain in the back corner of the club. The man flashed his card, the security scanned it then stepped aside and pulled back the curtain. Salvi saw stairs ascending to the next floor. The man glanced back at Salvi, purposely, then began to ascend the stairs and the curtain fell back down, blocking her view.
Bronte suddenly slumped beside her on their couch, panting and sweating a little. She saw the two women disappearing into the bathroom together.
“We need to leave or I am not making it out of here,” Bronte said, pointing to where the two women disappeared. “They’re going to eat me alive.”
Salvi laughed. “You’re doing good, making us look the part.”
“Hey, if I was a single man, I’d take a hit for the team, you know what I’m saying? But I don’t think my girlfriend would like that.”
“You have a girlfriend? Since when?”
“It’s new,” he smiled, before it fell away and he sighed. “I’m not sure it’s going to survive this case, though. What am I supposed to say? No, baby, I can’t see you tonight because I gotta go clubbing and get my freak on with strange women all night.”
“Yeah, that’s a tough one, but if you explain why we’re doing this…”
Both their faces fell at the thought of Caine again. Bronte shook his head.
“No, I think that’ll make it worse,” he said solemnly. “I gotta whore it up with random women and I might get killed. Yeah, she’ll see me as a real catch.”
“You could always tell Ford you’re not up for this.”
Bronte looked at her. “Are you kidding? Hell, no! We are gonna find who killed him and we are going to take that motherfucker down.”
Salvi suddenly pressed her hand across his mouth, trying to make it look seductive. “We shouldn’t talk about that here.”
She removed her hand, and Bronte nodded. “Yeah. Shit.”
They looked over and saw the two women were making their way back over to them with smiles on their faces as they whispered to each other.
“Oh, shit,” Bronte muttered through a fake smile directed back at them. “I am in trouble.”
“You’re doing good,” Salvi said, patting him on the arm.
When Salvi realized the Montana ladies were planning on taking Bronte home, she helped him do a swift vanishing act. While one was at the bar and the other was in the bathroom, she took Bronte onto the now crowded dancefloor, then used the people as cover to shimmy their way to the door and disappear outside.
“Freedom!” Bronte called out, as they hit the dawn air.
Salvi smiled, switched the lights in her dress off and pulled at his arm. “Let’s get something to eat.”
They found a Cafevend a couple of blocks down and decided to eat there. The franchise had been spreading like wildfire recently. In some ways it was a no-brainer. With no human staff, only robots, it could safely stay open 24 hours. Customers simply ordered what they wanted from the large vending machine against the wall – a series of glass boxes showing the meals on offer – and the robots would set about making what was ordered. The robots themselves were behind shatterproof glass, along with the food, so they were never under threat from late night attacks from reprobates. The meals were all simple of course; faux-bacon and eggs, pancakes, noodles. Perfect for the early morning Sensation crowd.
They found a table by the window and sat down, waiting for their order to be called.
Bronte yawned. “It could take us weeks to get to the Ceiling.”
Salvi nodded. “We can’t just work the club. We need to keep working our other cases. Tell me about yours.”
Bronte ran his hand over his closely cropped skull. “Well, with the body behind the dumpster, the fight over the parking space, I think the guy was definitely on drugs. Knowing what we do now about Fyte, I’m sure they’ll find that in the guy’s system. When they find him.”
“So you haven’t found him yet?”
Bronte shook his head. “Guy’s disappeared.”
“Where was the parking lot?”
“A few blocks from here. Next to a club called Bounce.”
Salvi nodded. “And what about your case in the ‘Mission? The store owner who caught a bullet.”
Bronte nodded. “Security footage in the area has been wiped.”
“Of course,” Salvi said flatly.
“The family is saying nothing’s been stolen, but I don’t buy it. I think they know something but they’re not talking.”
“Sounds familiar,” Salvi said thinking about Myki Natashi. “What did the store sell?”
“It was pawnbroker specializing in retro tech.”
“Yeah?” Salvi asked. “How retro? Like centuries old or just pre-Crash?”
Bronte looked at her. “Anything past last year. Most of the items were secondhand but they do sell some new stuff there, made by the guy who got killed and some other select suppliers.”
“Who were the other suppliers?”
“Riverton was trying to obtain a warrant for us to find out. The family weren’t cooperating. He left behind a son and daughter who ran the store with him.”
Salvi nodded. “We need to keep our minds open. This might be more than drugs we’re dealing with here. My photographer had taken photos of some women on the Ceiling and one of them looked to be wearing a neural device. Now, I can’t be entirely sure it wasn’t just some edgy jewelry made to look like neural tech, but if it was the tech then maybe there’s some connection with your case in the ‘Mission… Clubs, drugs and tech… Which in turn might just link up a lot of our cases. The body behind the dumpster, Kelto’s Diner…” She paused, tracing her mind over her conversation with Mitch. “Even Mitch and Caine’s case with that Langford guy who owned the auto accessory store. All the security footage in the area had been hacked and wiped. Just like your ‘Mission case, and just like the house AI at Barker’s apartment.” She sat back in her chair, staring at him. “I don’t think these were random acts of violence. I think these were intentional. Who knows where this thing begins or ends. Is it the drugs? Is it something to do with the clubs? Or is it something else like the tech? What exactly are they doing in this basement that makes people disappear or wind up dead?”
Bronte nodded in thought. “There could well be a connection.”
“I’m pretty sure Barker’s girlfriend was on Flyte. That’s why Narcotics locked her file.”
“Right. So what about the two dead guys in the diner? How do they fit in?”
Salvi sat forward again. “The first guy who died owned a cleaning business with several contracts for Sensation clubs, including Floor to Ceiling.”
Bronte nodded. “Shit. So what does that mean?”
Salvi shrugged again. “It means everything right now is circumstantial. They were in or around the Sensation club scene. They mostly look to be targeted hits. A lot of security footage has been hacked and wiped. Riverton hasn’t been able to track any of the hackers yet, which means they’re good. Very good. Which worries me
.”
“They said in the Trident briefing there could be powerful people involved.”
“That worries me too.”
“Until we figure out what’s going on,” Bronte said, “everyone who steps foot in the Sensation is at risk.”
“Yeah,” Salvi nodded. “Including us. We need to narrow down a list of suspects and fast.”
Salvi and Bronte made their way to Taskforce Trident’s designated debriefing spot to meet with the key players – Ford, Sorenson, Noble and Shadid. The meeting place was an empty office tenancy in a building in the heart of the city, that had several different entry points. Each team member was assigned a different entrance and a different time of arrival, and Riverton was the only one who knew all the details.
“I think we made a splash,” Salvi said, then smiled. “At least Bronte did.”
He pulled his sunglasses down, then pushed them up again with his middle finger.
“But I think I found a way into the next floor,” Salvi said. “There was a guy paying me some attention before he flashed his card and moved upstairs. He made sure I saw him do that. If he’s there again, I’ll see if he wants to take me with him next time.”
Ford nodded, then turned to Kara. “And you?”
She exhaled and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m closer, I think. I’m in with a bunch of rich girls who know somebody with a pass to the Ceiling. I’m like their pet or something. I furnish them with drugs, so they keep me around.” She shrugged. “I’m working it best I can, but I can’t push too hard.”
“Riverton?” Ford said, enabling the hologram function on her iPort. Riverton appeared in its shimmering gold form. “Request update. Anything on any of our cases connected to the Sensation.”
“Detective Lieutenant Ford,” Riverton said, “the man believed responsible for the body behind the dumpster in Hernandez and Bronte’s case has been identified as Clarence Jabbour, a DJ who worked the Sensation club scene.”
Everyone seemed to straighten a little at the news.
“Which clubs?” Ford asked.
The Sensation Page 8
