“Good morning, Mr. Trubble.” Whiz stood behind the faux granite counter in the lobby, his metallic skin glimmering in the light from the twin art deco lamps affixed to the wall behind him. He was a service mandroid, and they liked to look the part. His tuxedo was crisp, his manners immaculate. His sleepy-eyed, narrow-faced features were purposely robotic, a facsimile of humanity without the creepy exactness of a synoid.
“It’s morning already?”
“Yes, sir. Four thirty-three to be exact. Is everything well, Mr. Trubble?”
“Right as rain, Ace. How’s my best gal doing?”
“Ms. Luzzatti is safe and sound, Mr. Trubble. Security sensors indicate she had an unusually restless night, however. She is awake now. You can find her in her apartment.”
“Much obliged.” I jerked my thumb at the Bear. “Benny here is a guest. He’ll need a room for the while of his stay.”
Whiz nodded. “I’ve synched a key code to your holoband, Mr. Mastrogiovanni. You will be on the second floor in room 2015, right down the hall from Mr. Trubble.”
Benny gave me a perplexed look as we entered the elevator. “How’d that can opener know my name?”
I tapped his holoband. “Long as you got one of those on your wrist, your public info is spilled to anything with a digital reader. Thought you knew that, Ace.”
He fiddled with the thick strap. Holobands come in all shapes and styles, ranging from artsy to fashionable to standard. His was a steel and tungsten version with an oversized display. “My band is supposed to be fixed,” he muttered. “It’s not supposed to be tracked by any standard systems.”
“Well, there’s fixed and there’s off the grid. Even when a band is fixed, it still has to feed the basic info or it will raise some eyebrows and attract unwanted attention. But if my instinct serves me right, I’d guess you’re hooked up with a Ghost system. Works like normal, but the moment someone tries to trace you, all info disappears from the system. A lotta wise guys use the Ghost to keep up appearances while making sure they can’t be tagged when things go south.”
A bell chimed as the elevator doors opened. “Here’s where we part ways, Chief. Nab you a couple of hours of shuteye, ‘cause we’ll be back at it bright and early. Don’t sit up all night plugged into sym-sex.”
“Man’s gotta get some kind of action, Mick. I didn’t see any pro skirts anywhere around the joint.”
“Not that kind of dive, Ace. One vice invites another, and pretty soon the whole joint is filled with rats and cockroaches. The Red Room is just down the street. I hear they have some sweet synoid foxes, but they’ll cost you an arm and leg. Your dibs, though. So long as you can get up in the morning I don’t care how you pass the time. Just remember: bright and early.”
“I heard you, Mom. Bright and early.” Benny hulked down the carpeted hallway in the direction of his room. I stopped in front of room 2046, where I stayed since I first walked in the Luzzatti. There were better rooms on the upper floors, but I was used to where I was. Wasn’t like I needed some cushy suite anyhow. Everything I needed was already on me.
The room was cramped and dimly lit. A single window revealed a scenic view of the alley and the bums that slept there. A ceiling fan span lazily over the unmade double mattress that served as a bed. A heavy punching bag hung in one corner, a small battered desk in the other. My own personal haven. No wonder I drank so much.
The good thing was I didn’t mean to stay there long. By the time I finished a smoke I was already making my way out the door. It didn’t take very long to get to my next stop. It was room 2047, right across the hall. I never came home without checking in on Natasha. Ever since her parents got rubbed out I made her safety a top priority. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
The door opened after I rapped it with my knuckles. My casual stride halted as soon as I stepped inside. One look and my heart tried to claw out of my chest. Adrenaline surged, hammering so hard my hands shook as I clumsily yanked the Mean Ol’ Broad from her slip and fanned the area, knowing something was terribly wrong.
The room was clean.
Everything was neat and orderly instead of the familiar abstract explosion of creative arts and crafts haphazardly strewn across the floors and counters. The walls were repainted in shades of rich yellows and dark reds. New furniture adorned the living space–minimalist styled amalgams of aluminum, teak, bamboo and glass.
The culprit responsible lounged against the wall in the corner of the room, her oversized auburn sweater exposing one slender pale shoulder. Rumpled gray lounge pants completed the outfit. Her bare toes massaged the newly installed crème-colored carpet. Her long raven locks tumbled over one eye as she looked up in surprise.
“Mick Trubble. Why are you waving that cannon around in my apartment? Put it away before you hurt someone.”
I quickly tucked the Broad back in her holster, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Just gave me a scare with the change in scenery, darlin’. Got used to the place looking like an artistic disaster zone.”
She smiled, her big eyes shining. I knew then she had changed. Her eyes had always been the stuff of dreams, but for the longest they were shrouded by the trauma of her parent’s murder. Her eyes turned the color of overcast skies, shrouding the gruesome memories that haunted her. The real Natasha buried herself deep within her own consciousness, recovering while her creative, unfocused alter ego went on with life.
In the back of my mind I knew it was only a matter of time before the old Natasha resurfaced, but in the bustle of things I hadn’t prepared for it. Her gaze had changed from clouds to silver waters, swirling with all the allure and mystification that had nearly snared me when I was a lost soul and she was an inexperienced girl looking for thrills. I hadn’t changed much, but she had. The eyes that gazed at me weren’t those of a fragile young girl.
Sweet Natasha had grown up.
“It was time for a change, Mick. I can’t just sit around hiding from the world. It’s time to move on.”
I noticed she called me by my first name only. In the past she had always called me by both names, something that amused me to no end. But those days were gone, just memories that danced in the darkness of my mind. I watched her as she moved, graceful and confident. There was a word for the person I saw in front of me. A single word that summed up all the beauty, magnetism, and allure that shuts a man down so he can only marvel at what he desires but can never fully comprehend.
Woman.
“Have a seat, Mick. Would you like some coffee? I just brewed a pot.”
I didn’t need coffee. I needed sleep. But my world has just flipped upside-down, and I couldn’t just beg off without knowing the new person Natasha had become.
“Sounds like a dream, darlin.’”
Moments later we were comfortably stationed on her earth-toned contemporary sofa, seated on opposite ends with our knees nearly touching. She gazed over the rim of her tiny gold-rimmed mug, her expression shrouded by steam. “Why are you looking at me like that, Mick?”
I sighed. “Fast changes, sweetheart. You’re a different lady than the one I spoke to just days ago. I expect that means you’ve come to grips with certain…events.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Certain events like my parents being brutally murdered only a few feet from where I hid? Yes, I’d say that I’ve come to grips with that.”
I sipped the coffee. It was bitter and black, just like her words. “Don’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
Her hand landed softly on mine like a dove that lost its way. “It’s ok, Mick. I can’t run away from the truth anymore. It happened, and I have to live with that.” Her eyes were free of tears, but the windows wept anyway as the storm streamed rain against their surface. It was eerily similar to the storm that raged the night she lost her parents, when I carried a frightened girl away from a scene of butchery into the lightning and stinging rain.
We sat there a few quiet moments, her hand lingering on top of mine while we sipped coffe
e and brewed in our thoughts. The rain fell on the righteous and the wicked, traffic whipped by, and people went about their business in the midst of it all. Somewhere out there Sophia Flacco’s murderer waited for the opportunity to strike again. But inside it felt as though we were the only two people left in the world. Moments like those are hard to come by and even harder to hold on to, so I didn’t want to spoil it by talking.
But just like coffee in tiny china mugs, it wasn’t meant to last.
“It’s funny.” She stared at the laser lines of air traffic whizzing by. “I remember so much more now.”
“How do you mean?”
She set her empty mug on the tray beside her. “A lot of new things have resurfaced. Things I forgot, but can’t see how. Before, I always thought I was born in New Haven. But now…I remember a train ride. I remember coming to the city. I was very young, but I remember.”
I hesitated for a second. “It’s your true memories resurfacing. When you came to the city you were implanted with mental suggestions that made you forget your past. Best guess is the trauma you endured must’ve bucked the implants. Mental programming is a fragile science, after all.”
She studied my face closely, as if trying to see whether or not I was yanking her chain. Her eyes widened. “Mick…you’re serious.”
I nodded reluctantly. “The truth is a bitter pill, Natasha. I’d lie about this to just about anyone, but I gotta give it to you square. The memory shuffle is a part of the admission into the Haven. Used to be a medical last resort for folks suffering from extreme trauma, but some bad eggs got hold of it and forced the labcoats to use it to influence everyone looking for residency in the city.”
I couldn’t blame her when she looked completely flummoxed. “But…why?”
“Control. Everything comes down to power and control. A few folks at the top of the pyramid want to stay there by making sure no one knows how badly they’re being stepped on. The gonzo part is that folks outside this Haven would kill for a chance to get in. They think it’s some sort of utopia where your sins are washed away and you get a new start at life. Joke’s on them.”
“So my parents…” her words trailed off, unable to spill from her parted lips.
I nodded. “They made the deal. Whatever happened outside, they wanted to escape it bad enough to go through the process and lose their pasts.”
Natasha shook her head. “I…can’t believe it. It doesn’t even sound possible. Or ethical. There has to be laws against that type of tampering.”
“Laws don’t apply to New Haven. It’s outside the United Havens, a sovereign city that writes its own rules. That’s why the Service has tried so desperately to get agents inside. The UH wants nothing better than to take control of New Haven and all that comes with it.”
She cast her smoky gaze my direction. “So where do you fit in, Mick? How could you know all of this without being involved with the Service or the UH?”
I winced inwardly. I still wasn’t used to the return of the old Natasha, with her keen sense of logic I hadn’t encountered in a while. “Secrets are a part of my business, sweetheart. I can’t tell you everything. Too dangerous. There are folks out there who’d kill you just for knowing what I told you right now. You gotta promise to keep this to yourself, Natasha.”
When she hesitated, I leaned in closer. “I’m serious. You have no idea how tangled this gets, but it’s more than enough to hang us both real quick, and no one would care or lift a finger to do anything about it. I’m telling you because you deserve to know. But this stays between us, understand?”
Her expression grew solemn. “I understand, Mick. I won’t tell anyone.” She sighed, her eyes shimmering. “It’s just so unreal. We’re just a pair of lost souls, aren’t we?”
I gave her hand a squeeze. “No one else I’d rather be lost with, sweetheart.”
She laughed softly as she slid closer. “Still looking out for me, Mick?”
“Always.”
“Thank you. For everything.” I smelled the clean herbal scent of her hair and the faintly lingering smell of lavender soap that clung to her skin when she leaned against me. No perfume created could match that perfect combination.
“I miss them so much.” She clutched me tighter.
“So do I, darlin’.” I slid an arm around her shoulder. “So do I.”
“Don’t leave, Mick.”
“I’m right here.”
No more words were spoken. I sat and listened to Natasha’s breathing as she slid into what I hoped were sweet dreams, leaving me with the rain and ghosts of the past. It seemed only yesterday the Luzzattis had me over for dinner, teaching me the value of friendship and conversation. I might have wound up just another lug on the streets if they hadn’t taken a chance on me. But that wasn’t the true reason I was always drawn to Natasha’s apartment. I owed the Luzzattis a lot, but those debts had been canceled when they died.
Natasha was another matter. As I felt her sleeping body rise and fall against mine, my mind opened the door to forbidden hopes, whispers of dreams I knew would never come to be. Natasha was the only woman that could make an honest man out of me, but as long as my occupation was shooting trouble there was no way that could ever happen. I made too many enemies too fast. Any number of them wouldn’t hesitate to take down someone I loved. And even if they didn’t come for her, there was always someone coming for me. A romantic angle with Natasha was a recipe for disaster any way you sliced it, and I wasn’t the cook to serve it up.
I hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but I found myself shakily pulled from the stratum of in-between dreaming by what sounded like a faint voice calling my name. The rain pattered against the window, where blurred streaks of multicolored lights revealed air traffic just beginning to swell with the early morning commute.
The Datacom in my ear buzzed with an incoming call. I tapped it to accept.
“Hello, Mick.” The garbled voice that buzzed over the line dripped with mockery. “Did you enjoy your little fall from the sky? Did it wake up any old memories? Or do we need to play some more?”
I carefully pulled away from Natasha. She murmured softly, but didn’t wake up. I crept to the window, pressing the button to lower the blinds. “You again. Gonna tell me who you are, or are we still playing kid games?”
“You know, that was such an emotional scene. Are you in love with the girl, Mick? Or is it just some warped ‘father figure’ thing you have going on?”
My temples throbbed as I spat my words through gritted teeth. “Listen, punk. You got a beef with me, then deal with me. You involve anyone else and things will get messy.”
“Relax, Mick.” The voice sounded decidedly amused. “The girl doesn’t meet the criteria. You want to know who I am?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m the one who killed Sophia Flacco.”
My blood ran cold as my hand automatically pulled the Broad from her holster. The fact that I didn’t have a target was irrelevant. I knew a cold-blooded killer when I heard one, and I knew the perp wouldn’t have bothered calling if he didn’t already have the upper hand.
The voice continued to slither in my ear. “I slit her throat and felt the warm blood gush over my hands. You know the sensation, Mick. You did the same many times before, haven’t you? Oh, I forgot–you don’t remember. How convenient.”
My jaw clenched. “What do you want?”
“We should meet. It’s time we had a face to face conversation.”
“What if I’m not feeling all that conversational?”
The voice laughed. “Then I pump your pretty little friend full of hot lead. I’m stationed on a hovering floater two hundred yards away, looking down the scope of an M1000 sniper rifle. The scope is X-ray equipped, so no point in trying anything stupid. You won’t get to her in time, and all you’ll do is hold her tattered body in your arms. You should know the power behind the M1000. Brick, steel, whatever–not enough to stop one of these armor-piercing, explosive tipped rounds
. So I suggest you get conversational real quick, because I’m not exactly known for my patient side.”
I cut a glance at Natasha. She still slept the slumber of the innocent against one of her fringed sofa pillows. Her dark hair was splayed across her face, her lips parted. I knew the assassin wouldn’t hesitate to carry out his threat. The rounds would shred her soft flesh, detonate inside of her organs and turn her body into pulp in a few pulls of the trigger.
“Where do you wanna meet?”
“In the alley just outside the building. Make sure to leave that cannon behind. Remember: I’m watching you. You make a mistake and the girl pays the price.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I set the Mean Ol’ Broad on the telephone stand and strode toward the door, my shoulders clenched as though expecting a slug in the back. My trigger finger felt extra twitchy with nothing to pull. There was no guarantee the phantom voice would keep his word. For all I knew he would squirt metal anyway as soon as I was down the hall. After all, I was putting my trust in the same skel that slit Sophia’s throat and tossed her body in the river. But at the same time, I had no choice but to do as requested. My heart pumped diesel fuel as I practically ran for the elevator. On the way I tapped a text to Ben the Bear on my holoband.
GET TO ROOM 2047. GUARD GIRL WITH YOUR LIFE. I’ll EXPLAIN LATER.
Sheets of rain fell when I stepped from the protective awning and into the alleyway. It was instantly familiar–the same alley where I caught some trouble boys beating Mr. Luzzatti within an inch of his life. It was then I learned about his debt problems and the raw deal he made that wound up getting him and his old lady killed.
I walked in further, trying to make out anything in the downpour. In my haste I’d forgotten to put on my flogger, so I was instantly soaked to the skin. Only the brim of my Bogart kept the rain from completely blinding me. The buildings were dark towering shadows, concrete giants that long ago ceased to care about the violent and desperate acts that took place at their feet. The other end of the alley was a hundred yards away. The only thing in between was a hunched shape I recognized as a large trash compacter.
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 10
