“We’ll be done soon as we can ma’am … Fill me in, Harry.”
“Lady over there finds a body in the limb pit downstairs. Says it ain’t one of her Gutter kids. Y’know, the kids they uses in the gore bars. I never likes it ma’self, but y’know how it is.”
The patrolman led him past a series of cubicles with glass fronts. Most were mirrored, but the odd room was visible beyond the glass. The police presence had emptied all but one of them. A man in a lime-green shirt grinned maniacally, swinging a chainsaw through the air. A boy – couldn’t have been older than ten – scrunched his eyes shut, and poured his silent screams into the void behind the sound-proof glass.
Kage looked away. “Yes, got it Harry.”
The Beehive was in hot pursuit. “I reported this incident, mind you. And now my business suffers for it. See where being a Good Samaritan gets you these days.”
“Bubble PD thanks you for ya cooperation,” said Harry, and hurried down the glass corridor.
Unshaken, the woman pawed at Kage’s jacket. “Please hurry, Detective.”
Harry glared at her. “We doin’ our best, ma’am. Our very best. Now, where’s that key you used earlier for the … limb pit?”
The Beehive sighed. Dipped her fingers into her bra.
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
“I’ll want that back, mind you. And let me know when you’re done down there.”
The stench almost knocked Kage backward. It had been a while since his last case. Every time was difficult – he’d never quite acclimatized to the sweet aroma of rotting flesh. But this was something else altogether.
He choked as they descended the rusted staircase. LED lanterns hung from the walls, marking the subterranean descent in perforated halos of light.
“We got gas masks at the bottom,” said Harry, looking apologetic. “Shoulda’ given you one upstairs. Took me by surprise too.”
Kage grunted. Shook his head. Cleared the cobwebs spinning over his mind. “Tell me more about the scene.”
“I think you’s gotta see it. Mind your step, ma’am – I mean, sir. Jeez, I’m sorry Kass – I mean Kage. I … I’ll stop now.”
Kage gritted his teeth, and stepped off the last stair. Shit. His shoes would never be the same after this.
“Captain Weeks didn’t tell you to bring your galoshes?”
“No, the Captain wasn’t so kind.”
Harry tossed Kage an apologetic look, and stepped further into the room.
Something resembling congealed blood, except it was green, filled the room to ankle height. It squelched and slopped under and into his shoes, talking to Kage in tongues.
“I hear you,” whispered Kage. He checked that the customized investigation app on his glasses was switched on, recording every second of the experience.
“What’s that you said?” asked Harry.
“What else do you know about the scene?”
“Just that the body’s an adult. That’s how the workers knew som’in was wrong. It’s not one of ‘em Gutter kids they use for the gore.”
“But why am I here? Weeks doesn’t call me to investigate crimes this side of the Bubble.”
Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t tell ‘em I told you this. But I hear the vic’s some bigwig.”
Ah, he was right. Good news then. Big payoff. The squelching mess worming through Kage’s leather moccasins suddenly didn’t feel quite so intolerable.
Kage saw it now. A spotlight up ahead. A pile, higher than the officers who paced around it snapping photos. As he neared, he saw that it was more a mountain than a pile.
“Kassandra, thanks for coming.”
Who else? thought Kage. Who else would be assigned to this case but Detective-in-Fucking-Charge, Teague Shoulders.
Kage tried, and failed, to inflect as much venom in his response as possible. “I don’t go by that name anymore.”
Shoulders flashed a perfect set of porcelain veneers. Even brighter than Yaron’s. He slapped Kage across the back. “Of course,” he said, and extruded an obscene belly-laugh.
The rank stench of rot this close to the pile made it impossible to breathe. But Shoulders’ voracious smile seemed unperturbed.
“Let’s show you around. I told Weeks we don’t need you on this one. Promenade’s a dangerous place.” He lowered his voice. Leaned in, cologne thick as molasses. “Only reason we’re investigating is that the vic is the Mayor’s brother.”
Kage would have been more excited if he wasn’t holding his breath. Shoulders lifted the tape around the pile of limbs.
A gas mask appeared in his hands. “Here you are, sir.” said Harry.
Kage nodded his appreciation while he caught his breath under the plastic.
“Don’t worry about stepping on the limbs,” said Shoulders. He didn’t seem to need a mask. Shoulders thrived in decay. “They’re crunchy underfoot, but you get used to it. Forensics cleared the scene before we got here.”
Kage knelt down. Examined a hand. Such small fingers. He shivered.
“Told you, Kass. No forensic traces on any of the limbs. No need to examine them. The vic fell from above.”
Kage looked up. In silhouette above the mobile spotlights, he could barely make out the ceiling. But there it was, a few yards up. He thought he saw square outlines of light perforating the concrete ceiling every five yards or so, stretching ever deeper into the vast underground hall.
Shoulders was on the move, ascending the mountain of human limbs. Kage followed. He scrabbled up the pile of arms and legs, toes and fingers, elbows and knees. He was surprised how yielding they were. How they bent under his weight. But Shoulders was right. He couldn’t ignore the crunch of breaking bones.
“Why’d we legalize this?”
Shoulders threw him a look. “Why not? They’re Gutter kids. This way at least the Bubble gets to have its fun without anyone getting hurt.”
One of the hands twitched, and Kage almost lost his footing.
Shoulders held Kage by the wrist. “Whoa, you don’t want to be doing that. Those fingernails will rip you open if you land badly. Happened to Jensen just before you got here. Poor guy almost lost his cheek.” Shoulders shone a victory smile.
“Thanks,” mumbled Kage.
“Vic’s just on the other side of that ridge.” Shoulders pointed to a mound of limbs that looked a little fresher, a little more plump and moist, than the rest.
Kage trudged on behind the Detective. Climbed the hillock of arms. Had to grab hold of more than one to ascend it.
“What … what do they do with them?” asked Kage, breathing heavily under the mask. Beads of moisture condensed on the curve of his lower lip.
“Do with what?”
“The body parts?”
“I hear they send the fresh ones for scrubbing. The rest …” Shoulders shrugged. “The vic’s over here.”
More mobile spotlights, their metal poles staked in the pile of flesh around the body.
Kage looked for the flashing red light at the bottom-right corner of his vision. Recording. Good.
He knelt down. Pulled out a pair of gloves from his leather jacket pocket. He shuddered to think what the jacket would look like after this mess. But that wouldn’t matter if he solved this case. It was the Mayor’s brother. Captain Weeks would pay plenty to the investigator who solved this.
Kage shielded his eyes from the glare of the spotlights. Looked up. The body lay just below one of the thin square outlines of light in the ceiling.
“Which room is that?”
Shoulders’ broad face screwed into an uncharacteristic frown. “How should I know?”
“You didn’t check it out.” Kage phrased it as fact, rather than a question.
Shoulders sighed. “Harry! Get over here.”
“Coming, sir … Yes, sir. Sorry about that. Not easy climbin’ the hill. What can I do for you?”
“What room number is that?” Shoulders stared up at the ceiling.
Har
ry squinted. “Room number, sir?”
Kage stepped between the two officers. “Harry, it looks like each room has a trapdoor where they throw out the limbs. Which room number is that?” He pointed to the trapdoor above the body.
“Ah, got it, Kage. Got it. I’ll find out.” Harry scuttled down the pile of body parts. A minute later, Kage spotted him scampering up the staircase at the far end.
Shoulders stood over Kage, who was kneeling beside the body. He put a prickly hand on Kage’s shoulder. Lowered his voice. “That kid’s got less sense than a Gutter.” He raised an eyebrow to the ceiling. To Harry.
Kage stood to his full height. Felt a knuckle crack under one of his moccasins. “At least someone’s doing some work around here.”
Shoulders paled a moment, then recovered with a double-bright smile. “You’re quite a character, Kass.” He laughed, unconvincingly. “Quite a character.”
Kage grunted, and returned his attention to the body.
“Male. Caucasian. Mid-forties.” He lifted the man’s shirt. Raised an eyebrow. “In excellent shape. Note, likely a sportsman. End note.” His eyes glided over the man’s biceps. Kage ignored the envy at the back of his mind. He stared at the man’s face instead, giving his glasses time to find a match. “Badly beaten. Perimortem puncture to the skull. Bruising on left side of head. All ten fingers missing.”
The glasses pinged. “Match found. Victim is Lincoln Russell. Brother is Mayor Donald Russell. Bring up social media profiles?”
“Not now.”
“Left leg removed above the knee.” He looked around the body. A leg lay a yard down the slope. “Has this leg been identified?” he called to Shoulders.
The Detective lumbered over to Kage. Blinked.
Kage frowned. “How should you know, right?”
Shoulders stalked away.
Kage examined the fabric covering the severed lower leg. Same jeans color, under the blood. He pulled the fabric away from the skin, and it turned smart-fabric white.
“Note. Likely candidate for lower leg found. Knee missing. End note.”
He lifted the leg with careful fingers. It was heavy. “Note. Developed calves. Again, indicates sportsman. Set reminder one hour. Check sports club membership.”
“Reminder set,” said his glasses.
There was a loud metallic bang above. Kage’s glasses rang. He accepted the call.
“Hear this?” asked Harry on the other side of the phone line. “This the one?”
Kage watched the square of light vibrate as Harry jumped above it. “That’s it, Harry. Good work.”
Kage heard the man smile on the other side of the phone. “Thank you, Kage.”
“I’ll be up in a moment. Please secure the room in the meantime.”
“Yessir. Will do sir. I’m on it.”
Kage ended the call.
What was that? He leaned in for a closer look.
“Note. Line of what might be dried blood across the body’s forearm.” He examined the arm more closely. “Specks have a green tint. End note.” He blinked twice.
“Analyzing,” said his glasses. “Match found. Seventy six percent human blood. Twenty-three percent Rejek, industrial strength. One percent foreign contaminants.”
Industrial-strength Rejek. What was that doing here? That sort of concentration wasn’t available in the Bubble. He’d heard it was used exclusively in the Gutter. Given to Gutters who gave multiple organ donations. Nasty stuff. Bad side-effects. Likely belonged to one of the Gutter kids the victim was chopping up.
“Note. Send blood specks for analysis. End note. Detective Shoulders, call back forensics. Tell them there’s more work to do here.”
“Right away, Kassandra.”
Kage took a deep breath. Unclenched his fists. “Tell them to analyze this blood stain. No, please look carefully. Yes, this one. I’ll be upstairs with Harry.”
It was easier descending the hill than it had been climbing it. Two minutes later he was standing with Harry in the gore room upstairs.
“Looks like it’s been scrubbed clean,” said Harry. “Cleaner than any of the other rooms anyhow.”
Kage paced the empty room. Examined the concrete floor. It was stained dark in places. He rubbed a spot with his finger. Brought it to his nose. Ammonia.
“We won’t get much here. But tell forensics to check every corner. Clothing fibers. Blood. Fingerprints. Everything.”
“Yessir.”
“And tell them to have the autopsy completed by tomorrow morning. Captain Weeks’ orders.”
“Where’ll you be?”
“I’ve got some hunting to do,” said Kage. He marched from the room.
He felt it. The beat. The beat of the chase. He’d been out of it for some months now, buried under surgeries and more surgeries. But he was back. Private Detective Kage Jackson was back.
Margaret’s Manifold
Margaret answered the door with an ear pinched between two mismatched fingers. The ear wasn’t Margaret’s.
“It is good to see Daniel again.”
Daniel tightened his grasp on the bundle of body parts wrapped in Lincoln’s smartshirt. “I brought what you wanted.”
He couldn’t look away from the earlobe as he spoke. Gray. The Rejek-scrubbed capillaries beneath the skin gave it a green tint. Margaret held it in the air between them as it spoke.
“Daniel should come inside.” The android slid aside the glass door.
“Thank you.”
Margaret put the ear on the kitchen table. Switched on the kettle. “Tea for Daniel. Daniel looks tired.”
Daniel’s chin throbbed a metronome of dull pain behind his eyelids. He slumped into a kitchen chair. Tea sounded just right.
“What you doing with the ear?”
Margaret stroked the flawless metallic sides of its head. “Margaret has always wanted ears. Margaret has microphones with which to hear. But they do not look the same. They are not … human.”
Daniel shrugged.
The android placed a cup and saucer beside the ear. “Does Daniel like sugar?” It pointed at one of the silver tins in the center of the table.
Daniel lumped in four heaped spoonfuls.
Margaret’s eyes danced while it watched him drink. “Fingers,” said Margaret, and tapped its own on the Formica top.
He opened the makeshift satchel. Spread its pale contents on the table. Ten. Ten of Lincoln’s fingers. Some had broken nails from the struggle at Amputating Amy. But most of the fingers were unblemished, other than dried blood under the nails.
The android eyed the fingers with an expression Daniel could swear was hunger. It stood, and returned with the kettle and its own tea cup. Poured. Lifted one of Lincoln’s forefingers from the table, and stirred the tea with it.
The skin sheathing the finger swelled in the boiling water. The nail knocked rhythmically against the side of the cup.
Daniel lowered his own cup from his lips. The tea wasn’t quite as soothing anymore.
“Ten fingers is more than Margaret requested,” said the android. It tapped the finger on the side of the cup, and placed it on the saucer. It sipped slowly with inanimate, rubber lips. “Margaret is pleased.”
Daniel tried to suppress his nausea. “In return, I ask a favor,” he said.
Margaret blinked.
“Do you know someone, a surgeon, who could help me implant the organs? The cornea. The knee? Someone …” He searched for the word. “… discreet.”
Margaret steepled its fingers. The fingers attached to its hands. “Margaret knows such a person.”
“Take me to them.”
Margaret thumbed Lincoln’s forefinger on the saucer. Stroked its creases, now inflated from the boiling water. The android looked at its own mismatched digits. Some hairy. Some silver. Some smooth. Some black.
“Margaret agrees to Daniel’s terms. Daniel wants his cornea now?” The android stood. Rummaged in the kitchen drawer, and returned with a paring knife. Lifted it to its ow
n eye.
“Not now! … Not now. Wait until you take me to the surgeon.”
Margaret dropped the knife, slicing one of Lincoln’s fingers as the blade bounced on the table.
Daniel’s chin ached. “Take me to the surgeon.”
*
“You brought me an ear! How good to see you, Margaret … Oh gosh, so sorry about that.”
The android who greeted Margaret and Daniel at the door was dropping boxes quicker than she could pick them up. Gauze and syringes, tape and bandages, scalpels and swabs. They fell this way and that. Festooned the floor in widening circles of chaos.
“Ooh! Mind those. Probably should walk around that. Oh dear. I’m so sorry for the mess. I just … oh, hello there. I’m Hallibery 342. But you can call me Hal. Oh dear. Could you get that for me? Yes, put it right there. On the counter. That’s it. Thank you so very much. You can sit on the couch. Just shove off the dog. Sorry about that. Can’t get rid of his mange. But he’s alright. Ignore the growls. Roger doesn’t bite. Usually.”
Daniel couldn’t help but smile at Hal. At her ticks and clicks. The fan on her head whirred to life as she sat down.
“So hot in here today. So hot.” The sound of broken glass spliced the room, as Hal dropped a packet of thermometers. “Oh dear. Anyway, what can I do for you two?”
“Margaret requires an ear to be implanted.” It held out the gray lobe.
“I see. I see. But …” Hal glanced at Daniel. Something in her head beeped. “… excuse my saying, but I think he has two ears already.”
“The ear is for Margaret.”
“Oh! Very good. Very good.”
“And Daniel requires Margaret’s cornea.”
Hal craned her neck to better peer into Margaret’s human eyes. “You want me to remove it? Give it to him?”
“Hal is correct.”
“And I’ll need help with this,” said Daniel. He unwrapped the smartshirt, and presented the knee.
Hal’s hand shot out, spilling a pile of bandages balanced on the edge of the couch. She touched Daniel’s leg. “Your current knee is cybernetic?” Her silicone countenance frowned.
Daniel sensed the cold of Hal’s skeleton beneath her rubbery fingertips.
Defragmenting Daniel: The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 12
