by Brian Parker
And then I let the air out audibly. The reception area was empty and no one was behind the counter.
Ding. Ding. Ding. The bell sounded flimsy in the open space as I rang it. “Let’s go, motherfucker,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice said from inside the cage.
I looked through the grating and saw a pair of stockinged feet sticking out from under the desk, then a firm, round butt wiggled into view, followed by the clerk’s torso as she scooted out from underneath the desk.
The milky white skin of her arms appeared first, then a shock of brown, disheveled hair. Finally, she glanced up at me and I was greeted by a pair of green eyes that opened wide in recognition, even if I’d never seen her before.
“Oh! Detective Forrest. Your assistant called me and said you’d be stopping by.”
“She did, did she?” I asked, amused that Andi had fooled the clerk into believing she was human.
“Yes, she did,” the clerk replied. “I’ve brought out the evidence she requested, but you’ll have to sign for both the apparatus and the hovertray it’s on.”
“I won’t need the hovertray, Miss…”
“It’s Katheryn,” she stated with a lopsided grin. “You think picking up that hunk of metal is going to impress me, Detective?”
I smiled back. “You caught me. I am trying to impress you.”
“Hardly necessary. You’re the guy who saved the pope! Hell, you even broke up that big cloning ring and got the mayor arrested. Your resume is enough to impress me.”
“What’s an evidence locker clerk doing checking out my resume?”
“I just started working here, Detective Forrest, but I’ve followed your work for years.”
That’s just weird, I thought. “Uh… I don’t know how to respond to that.”
Her cheeks flushed, turning her pale skin to a fiery red. “I mean—ugh,” she sighed. “I mean, I used to work in the Dockyards and I’ve seen you out there probably ten or fifteen times. You even interviewed me about seven years ago. I’d been in Marie Leveau’s portside shipping office when a forklift driver impaled a coworker who was sleeping with his wife.”
Everything in Easytown always seemed to come back to Tommy Voodoo. The case jogged a memory, but to be honest, crimes of passion usually weren’t all that memorable and they were fairly straightforward. “I remember the case, Miss Katheryn. I’m sorry, I speak to so many witnesses.”
She ducked her chin, her short hair falling forward around her cheeks. “I know. But, that’s why I’ve been following you’re career. I’m fascinated by police work and the evidence locker is just a stepping stone for me. Once I can save a few thousand more, I’m going to try out for the academy. Gotta cover my bills while I’m there, though. You know?”
“Yeah. I get it. They don’t pay you shit while you’re there.” So, she wanted to be a cop, and moving out of the Dockyards to the precinct headquarters as a contractor got her an inside look at how things worked, then she’d go to the academy to earn her commission as a police officer.
“I admire a woman with goals. Keep it up,” I said. “I’m running a little behind though, so can I sign for the weapon and get out of your hair?”
“Of course.” She put a tablet up on the ledge and said, “Verify what you’re signing for, where you’re taking it and why.”
I read through the info Andi had told her, which helped me clear the evidence locker much faster than trying to fill it in myself. “Looks good, except like I said, I don’t think I need the hovertray.”
“Are you sure, Detective? Have you picked this thing up?”
“No, but the cyborg had it attached to his body, how heavy can it be?”
“Ah… Maybe you should come back here and try to pick it up before you delete the tray from your inventory.”
“Hmpf,” I grunted. “Sure, let’s try it out.”
Katheryn pressed a button, which buzzed in response and a blinking red light above the door activated. Then she walked around and opened the cage door for me.
“This way, Jim Granite,” she said, calling me by the name of a massive bodybuilder-turned-actor who was now taking on more non-action movie roles as he got older.
Appropriate.
I walked through the gate and she secured it behind me, then led the way to a small holding area just behind the evidence clerks’ desk area. She swayed her hips seductively and I wondered if that was just for my benefit or if that was just the way she walked.
“Here it is. Good luck,” she laughed, patting my arm.
I examined what was left of Branch Corrigan’s arm after I’d blasted it off of him with the Aegis. The laser took the weapon high up near his shoulder, so from what I could tell, it was mostly intact. There were tubes and wires all over the place, fairly standard for homemade weapons, but what was intriguing were the air pressure valves set close to the three metal cylinders in the middle of the contraption, which I assumed were the barrels.
“This thing operates on pneumatic pressure.”
“Yeah, pretty neat, huh?” Katheryn said.
I glanced at her; she had a wide smile on her face and tiny laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. “Considering this thing has probably killed several people and looks like the projectiles can be made out of any type of sheet metal…yeah, it’s pretty fucking neat.”
The weapon was ridiculously heavy. It took me two tries to lift it a few inches, part of which I attributed to it sitting on a table at waist height so I couldn’t get my legs involved in the lift. It would be entirely possible to carry the weapon for a few feet, maybe even ten, but I wasn’t getting it all the way through the building to the Jeep, let alone through the labyrinth of Sabatier Island.
And, I had a newfound appreciation for Branch’s strength and how lucky we’d been to avoid getting our heads crushed.
“Okay, you got me,” I admitted. “I’ll need the hovertray.”
Katheryn slid between me and the table so that I had to step back. “Excuse me,” I muttered.
“Hmm?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Oh. Sorry, I just needed to get in here and activate the hovertray for you.”
She pushed a few keys on the tray that the arm rested on. “Give me a four-digit code.”
“Uh… One, two, three, four?”
The clerk looked back at me and rolled her eyes, making her appear much younger than the thirty or so that I’d guessed her age to be. She input my code and the hovertray elevated several inches off the table.
“Alright, your temporary code is: one, two, three, four. That code activates and inactivates the magnetic couplers that keep the weapon secured to the hovertray. You can raise and lower the tray with the arrows set on the side. It’ll stay active for the next twelve hours. If it isn’t returned here by then, it will send out a transponder signal and an evidence collection droid will be dispatched to retrieve it.”
She turned around to face me and leaned back slightly against the table, bumping into the hovering tray behind her. It floated backward silently. “Is there anything else you need from me, Detective?”
“No, thank you, Katheryn. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I hope you get your guy,” she said.
“I’ve already got him. Just gonna go interrogate him.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, pushing herself forward with her butt. I took another step back; that’s all I needed was a sexual assault claim from some new employee. “I forgot to mention. I’ll be here until 4 p.m. so you can bring it back to me.”
She whirled around and scribbled something on a scrap of paper, then turned back. Her face was beet red once more. “Here’s my number. If you come back after I’ve left, just give me a call. I don’t have any plans tonight, so I’ll come right back to return the evidence.”
I took the note from her small hand. “I can just return it to the next clerk on shift, right?”
Her eyes fell. “Yeah, of course you can. But I like to c
lose out my logs personally. Helps me to keep track of things, y’know?”
The graduation was at 3 p.m., so barring any unforeseen events, I should be able to get back to the precinct with the evidence. “I’ll try my best to have the weapon back before you leave for the day. I can’t promise it, but I will do what I can.”
She nodded, “Thank you, Detective.”
“Alright, I really need to get going if I’m going to make it to the ferry in time.”
“You’re right, sorry.” She walked quickly to the access gate and I pushed the hovertray along in front of me.
“See you later,” I said, passing by her as she held the door.
“I hope so,” she answered.
As I pushed the weapon down the hallway, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on. Six months ago, I probably wouldn’t have realized that Katheryn was obviously flirting with me. Now, after two back-to-back girlfriends—or was Avery more of a fuckbuddy?—I was actually at a place in my life where I could pay attention to things besides work, and Katheryn was definitely flirting with me.
But why? I’d apparently seen her one time a few years ago and made some type of impression on her, hardly one that should have carried beyond a day or two though. Did she truly like me—or, more troubling, was she some type of police officer groupie looking for a new claim?
Something about her told me to steer clear of her, especially since I had a live-in girlfriend. Entertaining that kind of woman was just inviting trouble that I didn’t need.
“Calm the fuck down!” I shouted with my hands up over my head. “I’m a cop. This contraption is evidence in a case against a prisoner here.”
Leave it to the fucking by-the-book guards out at Sabatier to get their panties in a bunch when they saw a weapon. “Andi, didn’t you call ahead and tell them I was on the way?”
“The warden was unavailable, boss,” Andi replied as two of the guards advanced toward me while a man in the tower tried to be as noticeable as possible with his pulse rifle pointed at my head. “So I talked to the officer in charge of the guards, a Captain Jordan Spiels. I told him that you’d be on the first ferry to the island this morning.”
“Well, he didn’t pass the word to the guys at the gate,” I replied. In a louder voice, I called to the guards, “Hey, my assistant talked to Captain Spiels this morning. He knows that I’m coming out and that I’m bringing this nonfunctioning weapon to the island.”
That caused the guards to hesitate and one of them called it up. I heard several quick bursts of conversation that leaked from their earbuds, but I couldn’t catch what was said.
Finally, the men seemed to relax. “You got an ID and badge, Detective?” one of them asked.
I slowly lowered one of my hands and began to reach into the pocket of my duster. “Is Snipey Pete gonna shoot me if I pull out my badge?” I asked, pointing to the sniper in the tower with the index finger of my hand that was still above my head.
“Stand down, Ted,” the man who’d spoken a moment before ordered.
When the shooter relaxed and his muzzle was simply pointed in my direction instead of at my head, I reached into my coat and pulled out my wallet. I flipped it open to my badge and police ID. One of the guards advanced and examined them closely for a moment before looking back to me.
“Okay,” he said. “You’re sure that thing isn’t operational?”
“There’s no power source,” I said, reaching down to point at a severed wire. “And, it’s pneumatic, these tubes are severed,” I added, grabbing the two metal mesh wrapped air tubes. “Plus, there aren’t any projectiles in the weapon. This thing isn’t gonna accidentally shoot anybody.”
“We’ll have to scan it.”
“Sure, do whatever you need to do, man. I could care less. I just need to see Branch Corrigan. I hear he’s doing better than when I sent him in here.”
The guard shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, sir. I only work the exterior perimeter over here on the little island. Once I log you in, a guard will meet you here in the shack and escort you across the bridge to the big island. The hospital pod is in Cellblock Three.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been falsely imprisoned in Cellblock Three for four days—most of it in solitary confinement inside a janitor’s closet because I couldn’t play nice with the other inmates. I hadn’t been back to Sabatier since then and wasn’t looking forward to returning to the cellblock.
A few minutes later, insult was added to injury as Sergeant Jackson, the officer in charge of Cellblock Three, walked into the waiting area. There was certainly no love lost between the two of us.
“Detective,” he greeted me with a nod, but not a handshake.
“Sergeant Jackson. I see there’s no justice in the prison system.”
“What are you—”
“I filed a complaint against you and a few others out here. I’m surprised you still have a job.”
He chuckled. “Nobody cares about convicts, Detective. It’s unfortunate that you had the experience that you did, but you’ve got to—”
“Don’t try to excuse what you guys did.” Seeing him reminded me of the humiliation I felt when the female guard who’d watched me while I showered forced me to turn around with my arms held wide so she could appraise my package and make remarks about it. This whole place was a cesspool, but like he said, nobody cared about convicts. “Just take me out to see the prisoner and stay the fuck out of my way.”
“Yeah, sure. Follow me.”
We left the small holding area behind and Jackson indicated a two-seater hoverskiff. The little sport utility had a forward-facing seat for the driver and the passenger sat behind the driver, facing backward. There was a small windscreen, but nothing overhead to keep the rain off of you. “No thanks, I’ll walk.”
“There’s no foot traffic allowed on the bridge, Detective. You’ve got to ride in the skiff or else wait for a prison transport to take you across.”
“Goddamn it, fine. How does the hovertray work with the skiff?”
He turned to examine the tray as it floated soundlessly beside me. “Uh, you can just hold onto it and it should keep up.”
“Great,” I mumbled as I stepped up the tiny chrome ladder and sat down on a puddle of water on the seat, which quickly soaked through my duster and into my slacks. “Lovely.”
The hoverskiff ride across the bridge from the small gate island to the main facility on Sabatier Island took about three minutes. If a prisoner were to somehow escape their individual pods, then their cellblock, and then the interior perimeter, they either crossed two miles of open bridge or they swam for it, risking drowning or shark attack. That I knew of, no one had ever escaped from the island since it opened sixty years ago in the Thirties.
I tried to call Teagan again, but her phone was off and there wasn’t an option to leave a message. She was really pissed about me missing dinner. I wondered what it would take to make her forgive me. She certainly hadn’t been as lenient with me since we started dating as she was when she was simply madly in love with me as a customer at the Pharaoh.
We passed through two more heavily-guarded gates on the big island, which was completely encircled by fifteen foot electrified fence topped with razor wire. I bet they don’t get many trick or treaters, I mused.
“Alright, Detective, we’ll need to scan you for contraband,” Sergeant Jackson stated as we walked, dripping wet through a set of overhead fans.
“I have my service pistol, a laser pistol and this hunk of evidence right here,” I said, gesturing to the hovertray.
“We can’t let you in here with the weapons, Forrest. You know that.”
“The fuck you can’t. Branch Corrigan is extremely dangerous. I’m not going into a room without a piece.”
“I don’t like cursing, remember? The prisoner is strapped to a bed and on a ventilator. You punched a baseball-sized hole though his lung,” Jackson countered. “He’s not a threat.”
I stood my ground. “I need to t
alk to him, but I’m not going in without a weapon. Call the warden.”
He sighed and crossed the magic line painted on the floor. Non-employees stayed on my side of the line, employees could go to the other side. If someone tried to cross, they got shot. Hence the ‘magic’ line.
I watched him in conversation with somebody and I wondered if he’d actually called the warden or if he was chatting with his wife. I didn’t have anything to back up my desire to keep my weapons and if push came to shove, not very many people in the city would vouch for me.
Sergeant Jackson hung up the phone in exasperation. “Captain Spiels says that you can’t keep your weapons.”
“Governor Talubee and I go way back,” I lied. “He’ll vouch for me.”
“I saw you on the vids getting that award from the governor.”
“Yeah, it was all good—after I got out of this shithole.”
The sergeant swallowed a lump in his throat. “Come on, Forrest. I’m just trying to do my job. No functional weapon of any kind makes it past the observation deck. Even officers who go into the pods are unarmed. Please put your weapons in the locker and then go through the machine.”
I was pissed. Branch Corrigan was extremely dangerous and I didn’t like facing him without a weapon to defend myself with. I hesitated and Jackson spoke again, “If you don’t check your weapons, you aren’t getting past this point.”
I did as he directed, depositing the .45 Sig Sauer and the Smith & Wesson Aegis into a locker that requested a four-digit code when I closed the door. I kept it simple and used the same code that I’d used for the hovertray.
Then I walked into the scanner and alarms started sounding.
Guards appeared from several doors and I raised my hands again. I really didn’t feel like getting shot today. The tech operating the machine pointed to her monitor and said something to Sergeant Jackson, who looked up at me.
“Stand down, everyone,” he said. “Sorry, Detective Forrest, the plate in your head made the system go crazy.”
