Myki shook her head again as more tears silently fell from her eyes. “That’s just it… I don’t.”
Salvi studied her a moment, then raised her wrist and brought up the holo-image of the half-ghost on her iPort. “This man on the edge of this photo. Who is he?”
Myki looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never seen him before at the clubs at parties?”
She shrugged again. “It’s just an outline. He’s like a hundred guys I’ve seen before.”
“Do you think Francis might know him?”
“You would need to ask him that,” she said wiping her face, “but I’m pretty sure he’ll tell you the same thing.”
Salvi stared at her. “Why are you all protecting this man? Are you that scared of him?”
Myki didn’t answer. Salvi pulled the second image up; the one where Caine had been erased. “What about these guys? You know them?”
Myki looked at the image, then glanced quickly away. Salvi saw recognition in her eyes. And fear.
“Who are they?”
“Who are they to you?” Myki asked.
“They’re the men seen with one of our detectives before he was killed.”
Myki dropped her folded arms. “Then maybe you should go talk to them.” She waved with her arm back to the gate, motioning at Salvi and Mitch to leave. “That’s all I have to say.”
“Myki,” Salvi said, “you can’t stay here locked up in Francis’ house forever.”
Myki stared at her with eyes as empty as the day they’d first met. “Goodbye.”
Mitch turned and began to head back to the gate. Salvi sensed he was leaving them for a moment alone. She raised the image of the four men with Caine again. “Were you with these men in Diabolique? Do you know where I can find them?”
Myki looked at her, tears rimming her red, fearful eyes. “They’re everywhere.”
And with that Myki turned and walked up the steps to the house and disappeared within.
Salvi stared after her, with a sinking feeling in her gut. She sighed and followed Mitch back outside the gate.
Mitch, studying something on his iPort, looked up at her. “Waste of time?”
“I’m not so sure,” Salvi said, stepping toward him.
“Why?”
“Myki was scared of those guys with Caine, and I don’t know why. I’ve met Tom and he was just a young guy, like any other, but what if one of the others is the ghost without his mask?”
“You think one of them is the ghost? They all look kinda young to wield that kind of power, don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” Salvi said. “But Myki recognized them. They’re regulars on the Ceiling and no doubt regulars in Diabolique. If they were hanging with Caine the night he died, they might just know who killed him.”
Mitch nodded in contemplation. “What if Caine’s murder is separate from the neural tech and the drugs?”
“There’s only one way we’re going to find that out. I need to find Tom again. Let him hit on me and take me somewhere quiet so we can talk.”
“But if Chaney made you?”
“That was Chaney. Just because he looked into me doesn’t mean the clientele know what’s going on. Chaney was all about discretion, remember? And I would be an embarrassment, a stain on his reputation. He wouldn’t tell anyone about me. I need to go back into the club. Undercover.”
“How? It’ll be shut down any moment, once Ford gets the relevant sign-off.”
“We’ll stop her, get her to buy us some time.”
“You’ll need a pass to access the Ceiling,” Mitch said.
“Chaney’s lawyer can help us with that, if he wants to clear his client’s name and find who did this.”
“You think he’ll cooperate after we effectively got his client killed?”
“We won’t give him a choice.”
“You can’t go in alone, Salvi. Someone just killed a couple of Narcotics cops and Hinde, and tried to kill Beggs.”
“I know,” she raised her hand to calm him. “I’ll go in with Kara and Bronte. They’re familiar faces in the club and as far as we’re aware, Kara hasn’t been made and only Chaney knew of a link with me and Bronte. The three of us will go in together and watch each other’s backs.”
Mitch exhaled heavily, running his hand through his hair, mind turning over. She could see he didn’t like the idea.
“It’s the only way we’re going to get to this ghost, Mitch. You know it. No one is talking. Everyone is scared. So we have to find him ourselves.”
“Let’s run it past Ford,” he said pointing to his iPort. “She’s at Chaney’s crime scene. Let’s see what they’ve found out.”
The Chaney crime scene was a full house. Kim Weston and Chuck Swaggert were there processing the forensics and snapping 4D maps of the scene. Ford, Sorensen and Noble milled about close by, while Hernandez stood talking with a couple of beat cops who were helping to secure the area.
“Beggs?” Salvi asked as she approached Hernandez.
“Still in surgery, last I heard,” he answered.
She nodded and continued on to where the vic lay sprawled on his living room floor. Salvi paused when she saw him. Chaney lay naked, face down, and like Caine he had been tortured. There was a lot of blood. Every single one of his fingers and toes had been cut off, and long deep bloody cuts marked his entire body. His tongue had been severed, and Salvi watched as Weston carefully pulled it out of his throat where it had been jammed. Salvi had to look away as the guilt smacked at her again. Chaney had done many questionable things, but did he deserve this?
If she hadn’t dragged him into the hub, would he still be alive? Would the two detectives sitting in their car outside with bullet wounds to their heads be alive? While her guilt for Farrugia and Burke remained, her guilt for Chaney suddenly waned. He was dabbling in all kinds of things at Diabolique. Probably a lot of things she didn’t even know about. She couldn’t allow herself to feel sorry for a guy that possibly enabled this ghost to live out his fantasies, only escalating his desire for more. Chaney had, in essence, helped to create this ghost, this monster, and now the ghost was terrifying everyone.
“All our leads are getting killed,” Ford said quietly, moving to stand beside her.
“Anything from the digital scrape Noble was doing on Hinde’s data?”
Ford folded her arms. “It looks as though he was a social participant in Diabolique and was just scared of being found out and losing his badge.”
“How’d he get in, though?” Salvi asked. “He didn’t have the looks and wouldn’t have the money.”
“No,” Ford said, “but he had the power to erase narcotic convictions.”
Salvi stared at her. “The digital scrape?”
Ford nodded.
“Whose convictions did he erase?”
“The son of a real estate billionaire. Among others.”
“That’s why was he killed?”
Ford shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he made friends with the wrong guy while he was there?”
“Yeah,” Salvi sighed. “Our ghost.” She stared Ford in the eye. “If Hinde was involved, how many more of us were there?”
Ford stared back but didn’t answer. Salvi stepped closer.
“Was the Chief’s daughter just mixed up in the wrong crowd, or did she disappear for a reason? Like, maybe to stop the Chief from doing something his badge dictates he should?”
“Brentt!” Ford whispered, glancing around to ensure no one heard. “Watch your mouth on that.”
“But–”
“I hear you,” she hissed, “but this is not the place to be talking about his involvement.”
Salvi nodded and rubbed her face. “I need to go back in with Kara and Bronte. I need to talk to these guys,” she said, showing Ford the image.
Ford paused. “Is that..?”
“Caine?” Salvi said. “Yeah. Someone tried to erase him from Barker’s photograph.” She showed Ford the othe
r one, pointing to the outline of the man on the edge of the frame. “We think this is the ghost.”
“The ghost?”
Salvi nodded. “The one responsible for all of this. That’s why I need to go back to the Ceiling. I need to chat to this guy.” She brought the Caine picture up again and pointed to Tom Bradley sitting in the middle of the bunch. “He hit on me once. The smarmy fucker knew Caine, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I need to talk to him. Undercover.”
Ford looked at her in consideration. “Myki Natashi gave you nothing?”
Salvi shook her head. “No. She’s scared. Like everyone else. We’re on our own. Can you to talk to Chaney’s lawyer and get him to grant me access to the Ceiling?”
Ford thought it over then nodded. “Alright. You go back in and talk to him, but you do not leave the sides of Kara and Bronte. You hear?”
Salvi nodded back. “Loud and clear.”
Ford studied her. “You haven’t slept, have you?”
Salvi shook her head.
“Get some. You’ll need a clear head. I’ll speak to Chaney’s lawyer, call the team together and we’ll rendezvous at 8pm.”
Salvi nodded, took one last look at Chaney’s butchered body, then left.
Salvi walked along the hospital corridor, searching for Beggs’ room. She passed a doctor and nurse huddled deep in discussion over a data pane, then a robot trolley carrying laundry and medical supplies, and the occasional concerned family member wandering along, searching for what looked like hope.
Salvi was dressed for the club and tried to ignore the looks she was getting. The attire wasn’t exactly what you’d expect for an intensive care unit. This was the only time she could spare to see him, though, before she went back in undercover. She’d had to prioritize sleep before, heeding Ford’s advice to ensure she had a clear mind going in.
When she arrived at Beggs’ room, she saw it was positioned right outside a nurse’s station and had long clear windows to offer them a view of their patient. Beggs was hooked up to a number of machines that were keeping him stable, and a visitor sat with him, their back to Salvi.
She knocked gently on the door and entered. The visitor looked around at her.
“Stan?” she said, recognizing the partner she’d had prior to Mitch.
The old man gave her a smile. “You’re a little overdressed for the hospital, Mia.”
Salvi smiled at the name he called her; the name of a movie character from years gone by that he swore she was the spitting image of.
“I told you not to call me that,” she said, moving toward him. Her smile faded, though, when she took a closer look at Beggs. Half his body was cradled in casts, and the bandaged head wound looked particularly troubling, as did the tube down his throat.
“He’s a fighter,” Stan told her.
Salvi nodded. “I think you mean a stubborn son of a bitch.”
Stan gave a husky chuckle, then his smile faded too. He turned to look at Salvi. “A cop killer is a bad thing to have on the streets, Mia.”
She nodded. “Yeah, it is.”
“You better catch him before he takes out anymore,” he said. “’Cause I ain’t coming out of retirement for you.”
Salvi smiled and squeezed the man’s shoulder.
Stan sighed. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to. The violence, the drugs, the tech.” He shook his head.
“The corruption…” Salvi said. “It’s the rich and powerful buying and bribing their way out of things. What we’re seeing on the streets is just the trickle-down effect. The source of all our trouble is coming from those in power who are corrupt. They’re the ones we need to stop. We need to take their power away.”
Stan studied her with a gleam in his eye. “You’re learning.”
She squeezed his shoulder again. “You taught me the foundations I needed.”
“Ah,” he waved her away. Stan was not a sentimental kind of guy. “You found your own way. Just like I knew you would.”
They both looked back at Beggs again.
“He’s going to pull through, right?” Salvi asked.
Stan nodded. “Yeah, he’ll pull through… I’m just not sure he’ll return to the job, though. And that’s what’ll kill him.”
Salvi stared at Beggs’ closed eyes, the monitors on his scalp, the tube down his throat.
“He was heading for retirement anyway,” Stan said, “but this is not the way he’d want to go.”
Salvi nodded as a realization washed over her. “That’s why he was so angry over Caine’s death… He didn’t want to go out having lost his partner. He didn’t want to quit without having found the one who did it.”
Stan nodded back, staring at Beggs. “Loose ends can torment a person… And when you make the call to leave, you want to leave knowing the next generation are capable to carry on the fight. ‘Cause if they fail… it means our jobs ain’t done and the fight ain’t over. Loose ends, Mia.”
Salvi studied the two again, then gave Stan a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for being here with him.” She took a deep breath then exhaled. “I have to go,” she said, “and carry on the fight.”
Stan gave the briefest of nods, and she headed for the door again.
“Watch your back,” he said as she reached the door. “And trust your gut.”
She threw him a glance. “I will,” she said, then stepped out into the corridor.
The Trident taskforce gathered in the empty office tenancy for a final brief. Salvi, Bronte and Kara were dressed club-ready, sparkling and shining, and the entire room was filled with a nervous energy. But it wasn’t a good energy. It hung heavy with fear.
“Checking the tracking devices,” Noble said, looking at his portable console. They’d given her three tonight. He glanced up at Salvi. “Digital nails registering. Dress insertion registering. Powder compact registering.”
Salvi gave a nod, glancing at her chunky silver mirror ball nail polish, as Noble moved on confirming the same for Kara’s and Bronte’s tracking devices, noting that each of them had different devices in different locations to ensure that even if one was found, finding the others across the three cops would be as tricky as possible.
“Kara, we got your shoe registering, your bra registering, your nose piercing registering. Bronte, we got your ring registering, your belt registering, your back tooth registering.” Noble looked at Ford. “They’re good to go.”
“So you find these guys,” Ford said to them, “get cozy, see what you can find out. We’ll be on standby surrounding the club, ready to track you if you go anywhere. You watch out for each other, understand? And the second you think things might be turning to shit, you call us in there. We’re too far into things now and I’m not losing any more of our cops. If I have to blow our covers and raid the club then so be it. Got it?”
“Understood,” Bronte nodded.
“Loud and clear,” Kara said.
“Let’s do it,” Salvi said.
“Stay safe, guys,” Hernandez said. “Eyes in the back of your heads.”
Salvi nodded and locked eyes with a silent Mitch.
“We’re going in together and we’ll come out together,” she said, holding his gaze a moment, before turning and heading for the exit.
14: DEEPER UNDERGROUND
Salvi, Kara and Bronte walked along the street toward the club.
“Chaney’s lawyer definitely cleared us for entry, right?” Bronte asked.
“Yeah,” Salvi said. “He’s pissed and blames us for Chaney getting killed, but he wants to know just as much as we do who did it.”
“So long as we’re allies right now,” Bronte said.
“For now,” Salvi said. “But we still don’t know who we can trust. It could’ve been any of Chaney’s clientele, anyone on his staff, anyone period.”
“I don’t think any of this staff would be the ghost,” Kara asked. “This ghost has money and power. His bar staff won’t have that.”
“Not at fi
rst, no, but Chaney started as a barman once too. He moved up the chain pretty quickly. All you need is smarts. There’s nothing to say that one of his staff hasn’t built an empire on the things they might’ve seen at his clubs. Blackmail can be profitable. They’d have dirt on Chaney and all his clientele. If they have that, it can make them rich and powerful. Especially if all the while they’re lying low as a mere bar worker and protecting their identity.”
“And we can’t rule out the bar staff working for the ghost behind Chaney’s back either,” Bronte said.
“No,” Salvi agreed. “We can’t.” Chaney’s staff carouseled through her mind; Dante, Jennifer and Jaime from The Dream Bar, the androgynous woman in the suit, Anamatrix, and the neural device-wearing bartenders on the Ceiling, and Erica in Diabolique. She thought then of Chaney’s longtime clients too; the little old man, Hillier, with his virtual ‘pets’, the woman in the digital mask, the young, handsome Tom. There were so many possibilities.
They saw the video walls of the club lighting up the street before them.
Salvi turned to Bronte. “Ok, get in the middle of us and act like King Cock.”
“King Cock?” Bronte looked at her. “You should’ve brought a white man here, Salv. You’d stand a better chance getting in with these guys.”
She shook her head and hooked her arm around his. “It doesn’t matter. Your one penis is still worth more than our two vaginas.”
“I doubt that,” he laughed.
Kara looked at Bronte as she hooked her arm through his other. “How many Presidents of color have we had now?”
“Two,” he answered. “And Collins is looking good for the third.”
“Yeah,” Kara nodded, “all men. Now how many female Presidents we had?”
Bronte looked at her and didn’t answer.
“See?” Salvi said. “So strut your stuff, King Cock.”
The Sensation Page 24
