“You cut them up, Natalie. You slashed their faces while they were still conscious and you enjoyed it. You could’ve kept this between us, but you chose to pull other people into it. Well, you live by your choices. And you die by your mistakes.” I turned away, supported by two of Moe’s soldatis.
Her voice followed me, thick with rage. “Go ahead and run, you coward. You’re not man enough to pull the trigger yourself, are you? Michael. I know you can hear me. Michael. You’re all dead, you know that? Dead. You’re nothing but common thugs and murderers. You think you can cross over the Secret Service?” Her laughter bordered on hysteria. “I own you, Michael. You can’t survive without me. I order you to come back here now. Michael!”
I didn’t get ten steps before a clap of thunder boomed overly loud in the ruined safe house. I didn’t bother looking back.
Chapter 21: Mastermind
“You look like you can barely stand, Mick.” Moe Flacco handed me a flask.
I accepted it with a nod. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“I’m serious. You’ve got a lot of lead in you right now. I have a guy who’s good at pulling that out.”
I downed a swig of brandy. “I’ll get better.”
He chuckled roughly. “Everyone says you’re a tough sonovabitch, Mick. Gotta say the rumors weren’t exaggerated.”
Rain dumped on us as we stood outside. The safe house was an empty shell with shattered windows that gazed accusingly at us. A couple of the wheelers still smoked from the barrage Natalie unloaded on them. Unsurprisingly no police arrived on the scene. Moe had enough cops in his pocket to keep the area clean of any inquisitive arrivals. I watched as Natalie’s body was unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of a sinister black wheeler. The corpses of the men struck down by Natalie’s rampage littered the grounds and steps of the house. The rest of the crew took care of those as well.
Moe followed my gaze. “Hell of a business.”
“Yeah.” I took another swallow of the hard juice.
“Ugly. Didn’t like it. But it had to be done.”
“Yeah.” I took another swallow of the hard juice.
“She ever say what she wanted? What her endgame was?”
I looked down. Blood spattered from my fingertips and pants leg, mixing freely with the pouring rain. “She wanted me to bring a dead man back to life.” I passed the flask back to him.
He took a swallow. “The Luzzatti girl. You let her go?”
“She let me go.”
“That’s good, Mick. It’s better that way.”
I lit a gasper. “Yeah.”
He gave me critical glance. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Not exactly articulate right now, are you?”
I gritted my teeth. “Hurts to talk.”
He did me no favors when he clapped me on the back. “All right. Get sewed up, Mick. I gotta check on Benny and Electra.”
“Give ‘em my regards.”
“I will.” He turned to go, then paused. “He’s changed, you know. Short time he’s been with you and he’s changed. You made a man out of him, Mick.”
“He was already a man. Just needed someone to believe in him.”
Moe gave a thoughtful nod. “I’ll try to remember that.” He paused again. “Let me offer you a piece of advice, Mick.”
“My ears are always open, Flacco.”
“It’s time for you to lay low. Take some time off. Things are getting a little too hot, even for this city. Capeesh?”
I exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I’ll do my best.”
The crowd of gleaming wheelers pulled off. Moe slid into the door of his personal stretch.
“Flacco.”
His window slid down.
“I’m sorry. For Sophia.”
Most of his face was shadowed, but grief still etched deep lines around his mouth. “You did what you could, Mick. Sometimes that’s all we can do. See you around. But not too soon.”
He pulled off, following the train of wheelers out of the neighborhood. I stood in the rain and watched until they were out of sight.
Then I collapsed.
I came to in a very familiar place. It was a six-by-eight concrete box with one side overlain with steel bars. I groaned as I sat up and massaged my temples. My body felt like it had been run over by a dump truck, which was an improvement over before. I fixed my bleary stare at the camera in the corner.
“This better be a joke, Flask.”
The cell door clicked and slid open. I got up and staggered out the cell and down the hallway. The bustle and commotion of the police department greeted me with force of a freight train between the eyes. Everyone did a great job of completely ignoring me as I blindly stumbled to Flask’s office.
He looked up from his console as I entered. His face looked about as weary as I felt. “Mick.”
“Flask.”
“You have to stop getting shot and passing out in the rain. It’s not doing your legendary reputation any good.”
“Tell me about it.” I dumped myself into the seat in front of his desk. “Thanks for picking me up.”
He shrugged. “Got a mysterious call from a lady who quoted some math calculations on how I needed to be at the location. You should have called me for backup, Mick. I had the medimech pull the lead out of you, but you could’ve died out there.”
“Had to handle it on my own.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t look like that went so well.”
“How’s Angel?”
His expression turned guarded. “Been better. She’s a bit miffed she missed out on the action. Said something about not needing to be treated like some china doll.”
“Women.”
“Yeah. So–it’s finally over?”
“Think so.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Well I guess you don’t need this forensics report, then. Thanks for wasting my time.”
I quite rubbing my temples long enough to look up. “What report?”
“You know–the one you asked for on that stiff in the Docks. The one with the cameras wired to his eyes.”
“Don’t ask.”
“Yeah, well like I said–guess you don’t need it now.”
“Shoot it to me anyway.”
I pulled it up on my holoband after he sent it. Wasn’t much to look at–just the standard DNA match of a person I’d never heard of. Cause of death was gunshot wound to the back of the head. I scanned the list of known associates.
“That’s odd. Most of his known associates are dead.”
Flask sighed. “Tell me about it. All the murders had previously been written off as standard New Haven happenstance. Now it looks like there’s an apparent serial killer on the loose. Just what I need right now.”
I continued to read the dossier. “One of these guys is listed as missing, not dead.”
“Yeah. Nelson Lucas. His disappearance is highly suspect. We’re assuming he’s dead. Just haven’t found the body yet.”
“Nelson.” I scratched the stubble on my chin. “Got a picture?”
“Gotta pull it. Here you go.”
When the visual pulled up I almost dismissed it. After all, the last time I’d seen Nelson was in a warehouse where he’d been beaten so badly he was nearly unrecognizable. But it was the same man who blew his brains out with the gun I handed to him.
Which made everything suddenly come together.
I shut my holoband down. “Well, looks like you’re right, Flask. Nothing to follow up here. Thanks again for the save. Be seeing you around.”
His eyes narrowed. “Mick.”
I paused in the act of standing up. “What?”
“You’re not fooling anybody. I know that look. You’re on to something. I want to know what it is.”
I made an exaggerated show of straightening out my tie. “Think about it, Flask. You know everything that just went down. All the murder, Mafia ties, and Secret Service interference. Do you really want to
get tangled up in what this is?”
He stared at me for a long moment before dropping his head back to his console. “Nice seeing you, Mick.”
The office suite was high enough in the Uppers that the wall-length high rise windows displayed a marvelous view of the glimmering city. The suite itself was stark, barely furnished as though the occupant wanted the idea of a luxury suite without the actual luxury. The person behind the contemporary aluminum desk was immaculately dressed in a sienna grey checkered suit. His face was nothing like I’d last seen him. Instead of bland and mannequin-like, it was remarkably normal–a square-jawed, handsome face that granted a certain sophistication and imposing bearing he didn’t have before. His golden-brown hair was stylishly arranged with a perfect part on one side.
But it was the eyes that gave me pause. They were a more subdued green than before and gazed at me with measured calm and self assurance. There was nothing alien or artificial about the intelligence that shone in his gaze. That was completely unexpected and remarkably chilling.
Because Hunter Valentino wasn’t human.
I gazed around at the spacious suite. “You’ve come up in the world.”
His eyes flicked to the hypnotic city skyline, where the lights blinked and twinkled like an overactive circuit board. “Living in the Flats served my purposes for the time. Living here suits my purposes now.” Even his voice had changed. It changed from a flat monotone to deep and rich, almost purring in tone. “I suppose you found me with the help of your bioroid friend.”
“Does it matter? We need to talk.”
He tilted his head. “The answer is yes.”
“What? I haven’t even asked the question.”
His fingers steepled together. “Let’s not dance around here, Mick. The answer is yes. I’m the one responsible for killing Secret Service moles. And yes, I’m the one who bankrolled the drug shipment Luther Vitto had shipped in.”
“The same shipment that Natalie was smuggled in.”
“Indeed. I’m responsible for her presence in New Haven.”
I felt the heat rise in my chest. “That means you’re just as responsible for the deaths of Sophia and Desiree as she was.”
“Yes.” The simple statement echoed in the near-empty room. “Inadvertently, but yes.”
“Why? You’ve been avoiding Natalie since she arrived here. If you’re so afraid of her, why bring her inside?”
“Because she’d be coming anyway. When my contacts revealed she was seeking a way into New Haven, I decided to make the arrangements myself. That way I could monitor her every move. I had to know, you see.”
“Know what?”
“If she knew about me. The ironic thing about her mission was she was chasing the wrong man the entire time. Your memories were downloaded into my neural network. If she wanted Michael Trudo, she should have been chasing me instead of you.”
“So you put my life in jeopardy hoping I would take care of your problem without you lifting a finger.”
He gazed at his manicured hand. “Well, I’ve lifted my finger more than a few times. But that would be correct. In one swoop I got rid of all Secret Service influence in this Haven.” He paused, placing a finger on his chin. “I probably should get a medal for that.”
“This is insane.” I slumped into a metallic chair and covered my face with my hands. “When do the games stop? You can’t do this, Hunter. You can’t play games with human lives.”
His brows knit. “I don’t know why you would say so. It’s been repeatedly proven that men with power play games with human lives all the time.”
I lifted my head. “And you’re a man with power?”
“I think the answer is obvious.”
“You’re a machine, Hunter.”
He leaned back in his cushioned office chair. “My name is Michael.”
“Wait–what are you talking about?”
“My name. It’s Michael Trudo, not Hunter Valentino. You should recognize that. You used to be me, but now you’re not. So why can’t I assume the identity compatible with my memories?”
“What’s going on here, Hunter? Why the changes? You said a while back you would take no action I subconsciously didn’t want. Well, you know I’d never want Natalie in this Haven, and I’d never want Sophia and Desiree murdered.”
“That’s true.”
I felt a chill travel down my spine. “Then why did you do it?”
“I’m an ever-evolving specimen, Mick. As you are. My parameters are evolving as well. I’m no different than any other species defined by preservation of self.”
“I get that, Hunter.”
“Michael.”
“I get that, Hunter. You wanted to get rid of Natalie because she might have been able to manipulate you again. Only that doesn’t make sense because synoids can’t process emotions.”
“I’m more than a synoid now, Mick. And that’s only one half of the threat.”
“What’s the other half?”
He didn’t bat an eyelid. “You.”
“Me?” I tapped my chest. “Why in the world would I be a threat to you?”
“Dr. Faraday’s work with us was experimental. I was a prototype, and the process he used on you had never been accomplished successfully before. That being the case, predictions on the ultimate outcome are inconclusive at best. Suppose your memories suddenly resurface. What then?”
“I think this whole deal with Natalie disproves that theory. If she couldn’t jump-start my memory, no one can.”
“Perhaps.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Yet you did name your car Maxine, which just so happens to be the name of the first woman you killed. And here’s another thing–do you know what Natalie’s real name was?”
“Obviously I don’t.”
“Natalia.” He let the word hang in the air for minute. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Very much like Natasha, a woman you desire despite the fact you know there is no chance of a true relationship.”
My hands closed into fists. “How do you know about her?”
“Your bioroid friend isn’t the only one who watches things. Or did you really think I’ve been sitting around waiting for your random visits all this time? Oh, do lower your temperature, Mick. I’m not interested in your little friend. Simply pointing out similarities you can’t afford to ignore. Your brain apparently holds on to minute vestiges of your memory. Who’s to say they don’t simply return one day?”
“What if they do?”
“Then you would become Michael Trudo. And would Michael Trudo want another version of himself running around?”
“I guess not.”
“I can most assuredly tell you he would not. Were that to happen, you’d destroy me without a second thought.”
“I can destroy you without a second thought right now.” My hand drifted toward the inside of my flogger. “Unless you give me a reason to change my mind”
“Try this: my destruction would set off the explosives I’ve planted in this office, annihilating you as well. My system may be hardwired so I can’t kill you directly, but I’m not responsible for what happens after I’m gone.”
“You’re bluffing.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I don’t bluff. But you’ll never find out. Because one thing we share is an instinct for survival.”
We stared at each other. I desperately wanted to wipe the smirk off his face with a shot from the Mean Ol’ Broad. But I believed him. Something that Luther Vitto said. He doesn’t make mistakes.
“So that’s why you didn’t just kill Natalie. You could have easily iced her, monitoring her movements like you did. But you didn’t because you wanted to see how our encounter ended up. Because there was a chance she might kill me instead of the other way around.”
“That’s correct. I can’t kill you outright or hire someone to kill you. It’s an unfortunate parameter Faraday installed in my system with unyielding permanence. This vague setup was the best I could do to try to protect myself. If Natalie kil
led you, one threat would have been eliminated. But it was Natalie who died, so the greater threat was eradicated. I think I can live with that for now.”
The Mean Ol’ Broad was in my hand before I even knew I pulled her. “I don’t think I can live with that. You think you can cross me over and get away with it? You forgot about two things: Sophia and Desiree.”
Hunter laughed.
It was an eerie moment. Not because he sounded like some maniacal robot. It was because of how human he sounded. The laugher was rich, full of genuine amusement.
“Listen to you, Mick. You speak of these women as if you truly loved them. As if they meant something to you. You’re crying over a prostitute and a vagrant. They were always disposable. You used them for sexual satisfaction and discarded them like a Styrofoam cup after you tired of them. Now you want to avenge them, prove their lives meant something. But it’s not about them, Mick. It’s about you. You go on these rampages after people are killed, become this righteous warrior. But it’s not because you care about them. It’s because that’s the only way you can create a facsimile of self-worth. It’s pathetic, really.”
The Broad bucked in my hand with an explosive clap. Hunter toppled backward with a chest full of smoldering lead. The room filled with the stench of burnt wires and synthetic flesh.
I stood up and straightened my tie. “How’s that for pathetic?”
“That…was just stupid.” Hunter slowly pulled himself up, using the desk for a crutch. Smoke wafted from the cavity in his chest. “You knew that wouldn’t kill me. So what was the point?”
“I got tired of hearing you talk.” I slipped the Broad back in her holster. “I know you have some backup system set up for instant download upon demise. Probably have another body or two lying around. So I’ll bide my time. I’ll find out what you’re up to, Hunter. And I’ll put an end to it.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m up to.” Hunter sat back in his office chair and placed his hands on the desk. “Survival, Mick. Survival is what I’m up to. This city is hiding something. Dark secrets men will kill for in order to keep them hidden. The Secret Service wants them. I find out what they are and I have leverage. I’ll use it against them. And then I’ll finally be free.”
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 22
