Bounty

by J. D. Cunegan

  Freeman stopped at the door. "You just better be glad this didn't happen to Jill. Because then we would've had a problem."

  Chapter 38

  Two weeks ago...

  Joel Freeman was beside himself. He clutched the phone to his ear so tightly, he was afraid he might break the device. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring in anger. He passed through the drab walls of the Pentagon, having just left a pointless meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The exit strategy for Iraq had gone off without a hitch, but putting a bow on Afghanistan was proving more problematic -- no thanks in large part to the corrupt government in that region of the world

  "I told you to never call this number." His voice was part growl, part hiss. "This line isn't secure."

  The British voice on the other end scoffed. "And I thought I was paranoid."

  Joel slammed his fist against the wall, startling a woman who walked by clutching a black briefcase. "I work for the United States military in a post-9/11 world. I live in a country that pissed all over the Constitution to pass the PATRIOT Act. Far as I know, there's some nose-picker a couple blocks away listening in on us right now. And seeing as how I don't think you're calling to exchange Thanksgiving recipes, yeah, I guess you could say I'm a little jumpy."

  "You know I wouldn't call unless it was urgent."

  Freeman rolled his eyes. "Then quit wasting my time, Dr. Roberts, and get to the point."

  Silence hung over the line for several moments and Freeman nearly hung up before a nervous sigh interrupted him. Freeman reached his office and kicked the door closed before sinking into his chair and staring at the ceiling. He secretly wondered if this call had anything to do with Jill, considering she was the only true link Freeman and Dr. Roberts had over the years. Freeman was only tangentially involved in Project Fusion -- he hated the whole idea, if he was being entirely honest. So why would Dr. Roberts call him if it wasn't about Jill?

  "I'm being followed." The doctor's voice was shaking. "Nelson Blake."

  Freeman couldn't help but smirk. He wasn't surprised, not after the conversation he had heard between the two men years before. Nelson Blake, having practically lost his left leg in an IED blast, had been begging Dr. Roberts to enlist him into Project Fusion. Dr. Roberts, on orders from the Pentagon, refused -- claiming no such project existed, and even if it did, the procedure was so dangerous that it wasn't worth the risk.

  Frankly, Joel found the "even if it did" argument unnecessary -- and in a way, admitting Project Fusion did exist just moments after claiming that it didn't. Classic government double-speak.

  "I see." Freeman cleared his throat. "And what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

  "Andersen." Dr. Roberts’ response was immediate. "Call her. Ask her to help."

  The laugh that escaped from Freeman's lungs was perhaps a little too loud, too boisterous, but he couldn't help himself.

  "I'm serious, Joel!" Dr. Roberts' voice dropped to just above a whisper. "We are talking about a man who is missing several screws, and I cannot go to the authorities without implicating everyone even tangentially involved in a classified military operation that no longer exists."

  Freeman shook his head. "So you thought you'd ask me to call in a favor to my cyborg buddy. Sorry. Doesn't work that way."

  "Don't you understand?!" Dr. Roberts' voice screeched with panic. "He gets to me, he will come for you next!"

  "Why?" Freeman shrugged. "Last I checked, I'm not the one who caused him to lose his leg and his military career." The commander stood, crossing to the door, grabbing his military hat, and swinging the door open again. "Trent, this is your mess. I advise you to find a way to clean it up."

  "But Andersen --"

  "Is living her own life right now. Free from all this super-secret mumbo-jumbo. And it's gonna stay that way."

  Freeman heard Dr. Roberts shout in protest as he ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. The commander stepped out of his building, stopping to light a cigarette and take a long first drag. He heard a fighter jet roaring to life in the distance; Freeman glanced skyward and smiled at the lack of clouds. The pilot was in for a clear flight.

  Freeman was done with all things Project Fusion. He was coming up on retirement in a few years, and he planned on spending it on some of Florida’s finest golf courses. Trent Roberts had already snared him into his web once before. He wasn't about to do it again.

  Chapter 39

  Jill and Ramon both walked into Daniel Richards' office, with Ramon locking the door and closing the blinds. Jill watched as he took a seat across from Richards' desk, before closing her eyes in a desperate and futile attempt to calm her frayed nerves; she really couldn’t bring herself to look at her captain right now, afraid she’d lose her nerve if she did. Telling Richards about the heart at her door was one thing. Divulging the other secret was something else entirely. Richards set down his pen and leaned back into his leather swivel chair. To say he was less than pleased would be an understatement; Jill hoped that it was because of pressure from downtown and not because of anything related to her.

  "Any update on Dr. Roberts?"

  Ramon shook his head, sitting in the chair across from Richards' desk. "We're no further along than we were the other night. Our leads are flimsy and getting us nowhere."

  Jill stood, because she knew sitting would betray her nerves. A fidgety left leg was murder at the poker table, and it wouldn't be much better here. Her hands stayed stuffed in the pockets of her coat for much the same reason, her gaze fixated on the plaque with Richards' name on it. There was a scuff mark just above the R in his last name, and in spite of the moment, Jill wondered how it got there.

  “There is,” Jill paused to catch her breath, “there is one thing. You heard about the package left at my door the other night?”

  Richards nodded, the squeak of his chair swiveling back and forth filling the otherwise silent room.

  “It was… a heart.” Jill cringed as the words left her mouth. Had she not actually lived it, Jill wasn’t sure she’d believe something like this would happen. It all seemed so far-fetched. Then again, she was practically half-robot, so unbelievable had flung itself out the window several years ago. “Our victim’s. Juanita’s already looked it over, and Forensics has it as we speak.”

  “Does the heart get us any closer to a suspect?” Richards’ eyes flicked to Ramon. “One we can actually get to talk?”

  “If Forensics finds something, then sure.”

  Sitting up a little straighter, and clearing his throat, Richards shook his head. Jill could tell, without him even saying anything, that he wasn’t happy with this latest development. The sooner this case got wrapped up, the sooner the Inner Harbor returned to normal and the city’s greatest economic hub started churning again. "I’m putting a protective detail on your apartment until this case is over,” he said. “Now, what about the vigilante?"

  Jill and Ramon exchanged a knowing look and Jill released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Seeing the exchange, Richards cocked his head to the side, removing his glasses and tossing them onto the desk. Under the light, Jill could see the flecks of gray mixed into his mustache. "There something you two need to tell me?"

  Ramon sighed as Jill approached her boss’ desk. "Yeah."

  Jill swallowed back dread and a little bile. She hadn't been nearly this nervous when she was about to tell Ramon her secret. Granted, her partner couldn't determine her employment status or even if she would continue to be a free woman. The man sitting behind the desk with his name on a plaque was an entirely different matter, to say nothing of the decades of personal history they had. That complicated this in a way in which Jill didn’t want to consider.

  "Captain.” She swallowed again. "Dan..."

  His brows arched.

  "We know who Bounty is."

  "Then spill!" Richards was exasperated. Theatrics were clearly not his thing.

  Jill glanced at her partner aga
in, and Ramon gave her a single nod. With a sigh, she turned back to Richards, shaky fingers reaching up to her left temple to begin the slow process of removing her skin graft. She heard Richards gasp when the metal first became visible, and Jill's legs quivered once the graft was completely off and her eyeplate was on full display. Her knees nearly gave out on her, the nerves overwhelming her as she waited for the captain to react one way or another.

  Richards stood, the creak of his chair far too loud for Jill's liking. She checked to make sure the blinds were, in fact, closed. The captain crossed to the front of his desk, leaning back against the edge and folding his arms. He stared at the two detectives for several moments, chewing on his lower lip. Richards then narrowed his eyes, then closed them, heaving a deep sigh of his own.

  Jill felt like she was going to faint at any moment, the stress of trying to gauge his reaction almost too much for her. If he was surprised, he wasn’t showing it. In fact, she saw nothing but fatigue in his aging features, the combination of the years he’d already put in and the stresses that came with a desk job with a direct line to the Commissioner.

  "Shit," Richards spat the word more so than said it. He shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, cocking his head to the side and giving Jill a once-over. He smirked and shook his head before standing upright again.

  "I should've fuckin’ known," Richards chuckled under his breath. "I should've known you'd be bullheaded enough to do something like this."

  Jill frowned. "Sir?"

  "Jill," Richards sighed, "you are the most headstrong and determined person I've ever met. But you can also be one of the most reckless, foolish, and stubborn people I've ever met."

  Ramon stood. "Sir --"

  "I'll get to you in a second, Gutierrez." Ramon sat back down as Richards approached Jill. "I have half a mind to arrest you right now and lead you out of here for everyone to see." Jill expected to see anger in his eyes, but the disappointment cut into her far more. "You're not just risking your own life out there, Jill, you're risking everyone in this building!"

  Jill flinched.

  "Whether I arrest you or not will depend on how you answer this next question." Richards sucked in a deep, ragged breath. "Did you kill Trent Roberts?"

  Jill shook her head, looking at the floor. "No, sir."

  "Did you know him?"

  Jill nodded. "He approached me about Project Fusion. When I was in the service."

  Richards nodded. "The cybernetic enhancement program the Pentagon refuses to admit existed."

  "Exactly." Jill swallowed. "I'm Patient Zero."

  The chief's eyes ticked over to Ramon. "You knew that when you interrogated that young woman, didn't you?"

  Ramon nodded. He didn't dare speak.

  "I should have you both arrested." Richards shook his head. "You for vigilantism and God knows what else," he turned to Ramon, "and you for withholding evidence!"

  Ramon stood again, finding his bravery. "Sir --"

  "Get out of here, Gutierrez." Richards returned to his seat, unbuttoning his suit before sitting again. "I need a moment alone with Andersen."

  Jill stood awkwardly as Ramon left the office, flinching at the fact that Richards was using her last name. He was, by nature, more formal at the precinct, but he reserved calling her Andersen in her presence for truly serious moments. The fact that he resorted to that in this moment scared her far more than she would ever admit.

  Richards shook his head. "I don't know whether to be proud or mad as hell."

  Jill furrowed her brow. "Sir?"

  "Well, you're a cop, but you're breaking the hell out of the law." Richards clasped his hands together over his midsection, swiveling back and forth in his chair. That damned squeak burrowed into her ears. "But there's no denying that your alter ego -- black leather and all -- has actually done some good in this city." Richards leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "I wish you had told me sooner, but I understand why you didn't. So I'm going to say this, and I'm only going to say it once."

  Jill stood perfectly still, holding her breath and clenching her jaw.

  "Be careful out there." He sighed. "I'm gonna keep you on the Bounty investigation, and the Roberts investigation, just to keep up appearances. You serve this city with your badge, then you do whatever you need to do after-hours in that suit of yours. But," he pointed a long finger at Jill, "you mess up once, I'm throwing your ass in Holding. You understand?"

  Finally expelling her breath, relieved beyond measure to not get the reaction she had expected, Jill nodded and tried to keep a steady voice. "Yes, sir."

  He blanched. "Enough with this 'sir' shit."

  "Yes, Dan."

  "Good." Richards sighed and shook his head. "Now get the hell out of my office."

  Chapter 40

  Twenty-four years ago...

  Jill was up way past her bedtime.

  Her mother indulged her whenever Paul worked a late shift, because she knew there was no way her 9-year-old daughter would go to sleep until she knew her father was home safe. Janice had to admit the ritual was partly for her benefit as well, because she worried just as much as Jill, if not more. Janice dreaded the day she'd see another detective, or a uniformed officer, approach her door, hat in hand.

  Every police family knew what that meant. Hell, most civilian families knew what it meant. Janice never wanted to experience that. She had experienced it on the periphery before, after her husband would tell her of a fallen comrade, and she knew without a doubt that was one part of being a cop’s wife she could always do without.

  Jill sat on the edge of her bed, an oversized Orioles jersey running down to her knees, her father's police-issued hat hanging loosely over her forehead. She kicked her legs in front of herself, far too giddy and energetic for it being almost midnight. Jill didn’t need candy or sugary drinks to get her energy up -- just the promise of seeing Daddy soon was enough to get her excited.

  Most fathers read their children stories before bed, nursery rhymes or poems or other assorted children's tales. Paul didn't have to feed his daughter make-believe every night. She was so enraptured with his real-life stories of doing good that simply hearing him talk about arresting someone who'd committed murder was enough to send her drifting to sleep. Her younger brother Brian didn't share Jill's unique interest; he'd long since gone to bed, content to dream of getting a Sega Genesis for Christmas. He fancied turtles in ninja masks and men who zapped ghosts with proton lasers. Jill didn't understand Brian’s fascination with comic books and Saturday morning cartoons; after all, there was a superhero living in their house.

  The sound of the front door opening downstairs brought Jill off the bed with a hop, and she ran as fast as she could to the top of the stairs, giving Paul a giant, toothy grin as he set the keys down in the living room and started climbing the steps.

  "Daddy!"

  His grin matched hers. "There's my princess!" He got to the top step before swooping his daughter up into his arms to carry her back into the bedroom. He took the hat from her head and placed it on his own, and Jill's smile widened -- which Paul hadn't thought was possible.

  He set Jill back in her bed, tucking her into the purple covers.

  "Did you catch any bad guys today?"

  "As a matter of fact," Paul said as he sat at the edge of her bed, "we did."

  She bounced on the mattress, as much as she could being tucked in, her hands clasped together in glee. No matter how many times Paul saw her do that, he never grew tired of it, and he never stopped being in awe of just how much his little girl looked up to him.

  "We arrested a very bad man today." Paul faked a scowl, leaning in toward his daughter. He supposed there was an argument to be made that he shouldn't be discussing things like murder with a child Jill’s age, but Paul figured she lived the life anyway simply by being related to him, so why hide it? Besides, if she got to see people doing good in the world... well, what was the harm?

  "This guy." Paul shook his head. "
He wasn't very nice. He killed his wife and tried to frame his boss."

  Jill frowned in confusion. "But why?"

  "He thought his wife and his boss were having a relationship."

  "Were they?"

  "No." He took his daughter's hand. "But see, Jill, even if they were, that doesn't excuse what this man did. He still broke the law, and he needs to be punished for it."

  Jill gave a nod of understanding. She was bright, more perceptive than others in her age group. Paul attributed that to being the daughter of a detective, someone who made a living on noticing things others might miss in hopes of solving mysteries and putting away people who'd done bad things. The fact that Janice was a teacher, who had made a point of reading to Jill when she was a baby and then a toddler, also had a lot to do with it. By the time Jill entered kindergarten, she already knew the alphabet, could count to twenty, and was in the beginning stages of learning how to read.

  "I want to arrest men like him someday," Jill announced.

  Paul smiled. Jill's desire to follow in his footsteps was no secret, and though Janice chose not to believe it -- playing the "she's only nine, there's no way she knows what she wants" card -- Paul knew better. Even at this age, Jill was a headstrong as he, and if she decided she wanted to be a cop, then dammit, she was going to be a cop.

  "I'm sure you will." Paul stood, leaning down to kiss Jill's forehead before turning out the light. "Just make sure you keep doing your homework and getting good grades." He couldn’t help but laugh when his daughter faked a pout. "Do those two things, you can do anything you want."

  Chapter 41

  Present day...

  David Gregor was annoyed. It should not have been this hard to schedule a meeting with a police captain -- not for a man of Gregor’s stature, at least. He made his annoyance with Daniel Richards known in small, almost imperceptible ways: a glare here, a raised eyebrow there, a random clearing of the throat. Sitting with arms folded across his broad chest, purposefully avoiding Richards' gaze when the man came into the office and introduced himself.