Maelstrom of Treason

by Michael Anderle

  “You know what the sad thing is, Lance?” Erik replied. “It didn’t have to happen like this. We could have talked about everything in private, but now you’ve got it streaming for all the world to see. If you had cooperated with our investigation, we could have recommended leniency. You could have applied spin and protected your reputation.”

  “See! He’s threatening me again because I’m exposing the truth.” Lance snickered, but there was wild desperation in his eyes. “You’re mad that you can’t rough me up with everyone watching. Mad that you can’t take out your frustration over your poor leadership on an innocent man who has done nothing but try to bring the truth to the people.”

  “Spin and bullshit aren’t the truth.” Erik’s hands twitched, but he kept them at his side. He turned to stare into the camera. “And the terrorists responsible for the Molino massacre will be punished. Anyone who had anything to do with it will be found and punished.”

  “I’m sure that’s what the government told you.” Lance sniffed.

  Erik kept looking directly into the camera. “Cops and soldiers are similar. Both put their lives on the line to deal with the harsh realities of human nature.”

  “What do you know about human nature?” Lance challenged.

  “A man who has risked his life and taken other lives knows far more about human nature than an individual hiding behind a camera.”

  “I always go live and in-person to where news happens. I risk myself!”

  Erik scoffed. “I didn’t see you out on the frontier when we were fighting insurrectionists and terrorists. I’m not going to say all reporters are self-serving jerks. I’ve met plenty of brave war correspondents. I have seen local journalists die to get out the truth about innocent civilians suffering. I’ve met reporters who were later murdered by terrorists when they tried to report honestly against their sick ideologies. I’ve met reporters who dedicated their lives to passing on the honest truth.”

  “That’s all I’m doing,” Lance insisted. “That’s all I’ve ever done—seek out and spread the truth.”

  “You’re not fit to lick their boots.” Erik sneered. “You’re nothing but a puffed-up slick-haired clown prancing and pretending to be a truth-seeker.” He continued looking into the camera. “Every man or woman who puts on a uniform and pledges to defend others understands that one morning they might put on that uniform, but they might not come home at night. They understand that no matter how many fancy gadgets we invent or weird-assed aliens we met on the frontier, there will always be people who prey on others. The men and women who wear those uniforms will do what they have to, including give their lives, to make sure those predators don’t get free reign to hurt whoever they want.” He spun toward Lance, his eyes blazing. “Can you say the same, Lance? What the hell have you sacrificed? Have you once risked your life for someone or something other than yourself?”

  Lance swallowed and backed away. “Y-you’re just trying to cover up what you are.”

  If Lance wanted to play a media game, Erik would indulge him.

  “So, let me lay something out for you, Lance, live and in-person. We don’t need your confession to arrest you because we have four confessions from the men you hired to try to goad me into attacking them. We’ve already traced the payments to your account. I get it. I pissed you off, but last time I checked, that doesn’t mean you get to send fake criminals to threaten me.” Erik reached into his duster. “Now it’s time to pay the price for what you’ve done.”

  Lance fell to the ground, covering his head. “Don’t shoot me. I just told them to mess with you a little. It wasn’t going to be anything big. I’m sorry!”

  “Shoot you?” Erik snorted. “Cops don’t shoot nonviolent criminals, even when they are arrogant assholes. We didn’t need it, but thanks for the live confession. That’ll make things easier.” He pulled out a pair of binding ties.

  Jia walked over and held out her hand. After Erik gave them to her, she continued toward Lance. “Lance Onassis, you’re under arrest. All Article 7 rights apply. Do you need these explained to you?”

  “No,” muttered Lance. “I don’t.”

  Jia smiled. Her tone turned breezy. “Don’t worry. First offender, no violent offense. They won’t transport you or send you to prison.” She slapped on the binding ties and secured his wrists behind him. “Probably. Cooperating from the beginning would have helped. You should have taken my advice.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  October 8, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, en route to Police Enforcement Zone 122 Station

  “That sausage didn’t taste like sausage,” Erik complained from behind the control yoke of his MX 60. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t know if there’s something wrong with their ingredient printer or with their grill, but I can’t get the taste out of my mouth.”

  “My pancakes were okay,” Jia offered. “A little gritty, but not too bad.”

  “Food is overrated,” Emma commented.

  “You’ve said that before.” Erik laughed. “I’ll say the same thing. Taste something first, then you can offer an opinion.”

  Emma’s hologram appeared in the back, a pensive look on her face. “It’s interesting. I can’t taste, but when you describe it, I understand. Not in the sense that I can perform a molecular analysis and describe the components of a given vapor, but…” She chuckled. “It’s interesting, anyway.”

  Erik grinned at Jia. “Look at us. We’re such gourmet food writers we can make an AI have taste capacity like a human.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Detective,” Emma insisted. “I’m sure my ability to almost process the sensory experience is the result of my extensive capabilities and assimilation of a variety of data sources and has nothing to do with you.”

  Erik put a hand over his heart. “Ouch. I’m hurt. How can you treat your parents like that?”

  “I find your sense of humor interesting at times. That’s not meant as a compliment.” Emma tilted her head. “There’s a news report playing that you two might find of interest.”

  “Trying to avoid giving us credit, huh?” Erik chuckled. “Take control, please, and show us.” He released the yoke.

  The entire front window darkened, and a serious-looking anchorwoman sat behind a desk. Despite her youthful face, the gray streaks in her dark hair indicated a de-aging treatment. Jia wondered why she didn’t dye it given her job, but the chyron and the graphics next to the anchor drew the most attention.

  “Owl Award-Winning Reporter Lance Onassis was arrested yesterday, following what is described as a bizarre attempt to harass and frame NSCPD Detective Erik Blackwell. The prosecutor handling the case has already put out a statement noting that Onassis is now fully cooperating with the authorities. The implications of his—"

  “That’s enough, Emma,” Erik suggested. The news program disappeared, and the window cleared, revealing the towers and flitters of Neo SoCal.

  Jia frowned. “I’m annoyed that transportation is off the table. He was so smug.”

  “He might not be going to prison, but even a month in jail and a fine is going to mess up a guy like that,” Erik suggested. “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to be going anywhere live and in-person with camera drones for a while. We wouldn’t want him on the frontier anyway.”

  “Why?” Jia glanced at him.

  “The colonies didn’t do anything to deserve Lance Onassis,” Erik deadpanned.

  Jia snickered. “Maybe the next triad thugs to show up will take this as a lesson.”

  “Us taking down an arrogant reporter who could have been out-criminaled by a kid?”

  “One can always hope.”

  * * *

  October 9, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Police Enforcement Zone 122 Station, Office of Captain Alexander Ragnar

  The captain stood behind his desk. He extended his large hand to Erik and Jia after they entered, giving them both a firm shake. “It’s times like this I realize how much I
’ll regret losing you two.”

  “What’s going on, sir?” Jia asked.

  “I just got a call from the CID.” The captain took a seat. “Staring down prison without his hardware spooked Hui more than we thought. We need a detective to find his missing loyalty.”

  “But he already admitted to Dwazil’s murder and the others,” Jia replied. “What else could he admit to? He’s giving up the Eternal Dragons in Hong Kong?”

  The captain nodded. “Exactly. Even the prosecutor was surprised. Your little gambit scared him so much he’s seeing triad assassins in every shadow. Because of his intel, the Eternal Dragons aren’t long for this world. Not only that, but he’s also giving the CID good lines on the black-market tech dealers who sold him his toys. Slapping them down will do a lot to weaken organized crime on Earth, and maybe in the rest of the Solar System.”

  “Another useful second-order effect,” announced Emma. She remained formless. “Spending some time away from Neo SoCal might be useful for increasing your life expectancies, Detectives.”

  Captain Ragnar let out a hearty laugh. “It’s the opposite. Them leaving means every other cop is going to work harder. And you better think of something else to call them, because they won’t be detectives in a few weeks.”

  “You could just use our names,” Erik suggested. “Calling me Contractor Blackwell’s going to sound awkward.”

  “I suppose I could.” Emma sounded doubtful.

  “That’s the other thing I’m going to miss.” Captain Ragnar gestured at Erik’s PNIU. “I know you’ve had to be careful how you’ve used her, but having a military-grade experimental AI on our side has been a great tool. I know you’re stealing Constantine, too.”

  Erik rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, he told you?”

  Captain Ragnar shook his head. “I might be riding a desk, but I’m still a cop, and I notice things.”

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Jia asked.

  “No. He’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions. I’m not happy to lose three talented members of this department, but I know whatever it is you’re going on to will be helpful.” Captain Ragnar looked at the two of them. “I won’t ask you to tell me anything, although I know you two aren’t going to work private security. But it doesn’t matter.”

  “Why?” Erik asked.

  “Because whatever job you work after leaving here, you’ll do the right thing.” Captain Ragnar nodded. “That’s all I have for you. Keep up the good work as long as you’re here.”

  “We’ll try.” Erik headed toward the door. “Now if we can just get to the end of the month without someone else trying to blow us up.”

  Jia offered a polite nod to the captain and followed her partner into the hall. “Sometimes I wonder how much he knows.”

  “It’s like he said,” Erik suggested. “Sometimes it’s best not to ask questions.”

  Jia’s PNIU chimed, and she tapped it to bring up her message. “Oh, fantastic. Speaking of ambushes and getting blown up.”

  Erik stopped and looked her way with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “My mother has scheduled a dinner party for tomorrow,” Jia explained. “And she’s made it very clear we must attend.”

  Erik laughed. “After triad Tin Men, how scary can one mom be?”

  “Remember.” Jia gave him a plaintive look that caused his stomach to go sideways. “It’s my mother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jia kept her arm around Erik’s as they wandered the edge of the thick crowd.

  Men in tuxedos and women in elegant gowns choked the room.

  Her parents’ cavern of a living room normally swallowed mere humans who dared enter its domain. However, with the crowd of people chatting, laughing, and drinking, the room was easily defeated.

  Aggressive air conditioning mercifully kept the heat from becoming oppressive, but Jia was still surprised her mother hadn’t rented somewhere larger.

  The size of the room destroyed any intimacy the affair might otherwise have had. That made sense. There were three types of Lan Lin parties. The first type was small, intimate affairs designed to foster better relationships between close friends and relatives.

  The second type was large, calm events focused on business networking.

  The third type was like the current party—attempts to show off the wealth and class of the Lin family. Jia had never resented her mother for throwing that type of party, but she’d also never cared.

  Flashing money didn’t appeal.

  A smaller number of guests would have been preferable, beyond the difficulty of navigating the room. Everyone was focused on each other and ignoring the entertainment.

  A young man strumming an erhu sat next to a woman in a flowing pink and yellow dress who plucked a guqin, her movements precise and elegant. Their notes flowed together to fuel a somber but beautiful melody.

  No one paid them any attention, lost in their conversations.

  From what Jia’s mother had told her, the musicians had been hired for the Mid-Autumn Festival party, and she enjoyed their performances so much, she decided to hire them again. They probably didn’t care that they were being ignored as long as they were paid well.

  Erik squeezed her arm gently. “Is this the part where I tell you that you’re supposed to be enjoying this?” he whispered.

  Jia rolled her eyes at his invoking of a previous party. “It’s not you. It’s just, things like this have never been my kind of event. There’s not enough life in it.”

  “I agree with you there. There’s also not enough beer, which is a shame. Your mom generally has some.”

  “She was going for a certain atmosphere,” Jia suggested. “And even fancy beer might not fit that.”

  A smiling, slightly rotund red-faced man with a glass of wine in hand detached from the crowd, maneuvering with surprising agility toward Jia and Erik. Jia waited patiently. She’d expected more people to talk to her, especially since this was a make-up party.

  Then again, it wasn’t like all the movers and shakers in her mother’s circle had time to come to social functions just because someone’s daughter was too busy catching murderous gangsters to attend.

  “You know that guy?” Erik inclined his head toward the approaching visitor. “He looks okay.”

  “Yes. He’s Darren Cole, a friend of my mother’s.” Jia activated her well-trained Lin social smile. It might be a chore when she was working her job, but surrounded by the elite, it came with as much practiced ease as her highly polished shooting skills. “He’s nice enough, but he doesn’t live in Neo SoCal. I’m surprised to see him.”

  Darren stopped to allow a waitress carrying a tray of drinks to pass and then finished his approach. “Ah, Jia. It’s been far too long since we last talked.” He sighed. “You never come to Brussels. It’s not Neo SoCal, and it took me a while to get used to when I first went there, but you’d love it. Everything around here is busy and coarse compared to Brussels. We don’t pretend to be sky kings there. I thought Beijing and Lagos were bad, but this place always makes me feel like some giant’s going to eat me.” He waved a hand. “But I’m getting off track. Back to you and how you never visit.”

  “It’s been a busy year.” Jia was working on what his angle was. Further, was he part of her mother’s twisted political machinations? Why couldn’t her mom just enjoy life?

  “Oh, yes, with all the crimes and terrorism.” Darren clucked his tongue. “You know how roaches are. When you shine a light on them, they scurry.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” Jia gestured to Erik. “This is my partner in more ways than one, Erik Blackwell.”

  Erik’s mouth quirked into a smile, but instead of a snarky quip, he extended his hand to Darren. “Nice to meet you.”

  Darren gave Erik’s hand a firm shake. “I’ve read about you, of course. The pleasure is all mine. It takes a hell of a man to keep up with Jia.” He laughed. “Lin women are inherently stubborn, but she takes it to the nex
t level.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Erik laughed. Darren joined him.

  “You have to be stubborn when you’re around men like Erik,” Jia muttered.

  Darren shook a finger. “Yes, yes. I had something I wanted to discuss with Jia, but based on what I’ve heard from Lan, it might be worth discussing with both of you, and I’m more inclined now that I’ve talked with Erik.”

  “Why?” Erik asked.

  “If you look into a man’s eyes, you can tell a lot about him,” Darren insisted.

  Jia kept her smile intact despite her tightening stomach. “You discussed us with my mother?”

  “Yes,” Darren replied. “The news claimed you two were leaving the police department. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but your mother confirmed it. I was wondering if there were opportunities for both of us that weren’t available when you were focused on being public servants.”

  “Opportunities?” Erik asked. “Like?”

  Darren nodded. “Lan told me your work is buried in NDAs, so I won’t bother asking you who your primary clients are, but I guarantee you I can and will pay you more to secure your services. My company could use two new VPs of Security. You wouldn’t have to worry about fieldwork anymore. None of the barbaric shooting and getting shot at. I can scarcely imagine.”

  “That’s a very generous offer, Darren,” Jia replied, “but we already are locked into a contract. These aren’t the kind of terms our clients will see fit to ignore.”

  “I’m more than prepared to pay whatever termination penalty is in your contracts on your behalf,” Darren explained. “I do understand that could run into a large number of zeroes, but I’m sensing this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “We’re just two soon-to-be ex-cops,” Erik noted. “I’m sure there are people who would work better for your company.”