Deadfall: A Post-Humans Story

by Bassett, Thurston

  “These are people, like us.” Cynthia shook her head. “I assume this man is no longer your boyfriend?”

  “He does not know that I have seen this place and I would like to keep it that way. I do not think he had the best intentions for me.”

  Cynthia nodded in agreement as she looked at a Post-Human skin that was pinned on the wall like an animal pelt. It was once a girl who had bluish stripes down her back in a beautiful pattern.

  Cynthia stepped closer so she could see the detail. She touched the skin with a shaking hand. It was soft.

  “This…” she began to say as she lifted some of the skin, “…is not old, Kara. This girl has been skinned in the last couple of months.”

  She turned to Kara who stood rubbing at her arms. “We should leave.”

  Cynthia nodded.

  “I’ll need something for my hands first.”

  “Here.” Kara had found some white cotton gloves in a draw. “I think they were for handling these things. It was that best I could find.”

  Cynthia thanked her and slid the gloves on. They were too big, but they would do for now.

  She then followed Kara to the cabinets and shelves the led to the panel that they would use to escape.

  Cynthia took one last look.

  Her thoughts were confirmed then. This maniac was not after Bronson Carlyle afteral; she was to be a new addition to the collection of Ace of Clubs.

  The two women climbed down the wall outside. Cynthia did so with great difficulty, but was able with the help of Kara and her unique ability.

  Once they were on the ground. Kara led her to a car she had hidden a few streets away.

  Chapter 24

  Matt placed his hand on Cynthia’s shoulder.

  “I should have been there, Cynthy.”

  She shook her head. “No, you were doing your duties. You can’t blame yourself.”

  Matt shook his head and wandered over to the big windows that overlooked the city lights.

  They were in Bronson Carlyle’s penthouse and Kara was with them.

  “And how did you know that Deadfall was at this particular location, Miss Zang?” Bronson asked.

  Kara was curled up on the lounge suite staring out at the city lights.

  “Kara?” Bronson repeated the question.

  “I am sorry,” she blinked, “I had followed Ace’s men there before, and after seeing what he kept there, I took a guess.” She turned to the window again.

  Bronson nodded. “It was a good guess.”

  “Yes.” She looked at Cynthia. “And when I saw Ace’s men at the zoo, I knew that she must be like me. She couldn’t have been a normal target.”

  Bronson sat back. “Post-Human?”

  Kara nodded slowly.

  “Hmm…” Bronson stood looking out the window, hands behind his back. “I don’t understand. It was clear from the get-go that this arsehole wanted to take down everything I’ve tried so hard to build. Now you’ve told me that he is definitely after Deadfall and perhaps you too, Miss Zang.”

  “The Chinatown raid,” Matt turned to face the others. “What about the Chinatown raid? And he rescued Mirage from that crowd. Is Mirage one of his trophies, or is he genuine about her and Miss Zang?”

  “It was a show of strength.” Cynthia’s eyes were closed. “He’s had all everyone running scared. He’s shaking things up across the board.” She crossed her legs and looked at the ceiling. “He was flexing his muscles for the city to see. Mr Carlyle, maybe you were part of this, because you had the resources he needed to pay for what he is doing?”

  Carlyle shrugged and stared out at the lights.

  “No.” Matt said, “There’s a bigger picture here that we’re not seeing. These aren’t random actions.” He took his little note pad out. “He used Mirage to remove key players in Mr Carlyle’s staff. Then he used Kara to get the resources he needed to employ an army of goons. It was after that that he came after Cynthia. We are missing something specific.

  Kara squinted at Matt. “Who is this ‘Mirage’ you keep mentioning?”

  “She is… Wait, you don’t know who she is?”

  Kara shook her head and sat forward.

  Matt looked to Carlyle, for permission to share the information, but the man had wandered over to the kitchen to make himself a stiff drink. So Matt sat next to her and told her about the series of murders and the woman that could create an illusion hiding her true appearance.

  “It sounds like she would be a prize in Ace’s collection.”

  Matt shrugged.

  Kara crossed her legs and took a deep breath. “She sounds very dangerous. I don’t want to be the target of someone who could impersonate my friends or family.”

  “What did you say?” Matt said, his eyes wide.

  “That…I wouldn’t want to be her target.” Kara blinked and looked at Cynthia, who was watching Matt closely.

  She had seen him do this before.

  “Matt?” she enquired.

  He rubbed at his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, before getting and beginning to pace. “Kara said that she would hate to be the target of someone who could impersonate friends or family.”

  Cynthia and Kara glanced at each other, not following Matt’s train of thought.

  Matt sank into one of Mr Carlyle’s armchairs, holding his notebook.

  “What are you thinking, Matt?”

  Matt took a deep breath and looked at the women.

  “What I’m thinking,” he said finally, “is that our key to solving this is through Mirage’s actions.”

  Cynthia nodded, but was still confused.

  “We need to look at Mirage’s targets. Who were they and why were they targets in the first place?”

  Cynthia nodded and racked her memory. “Johnny. He was Mr Carlyle’s accountant. Besides his association to Mr Carlyle, I don’t see a connection.”

  The others sat thoughtfully.

  Bronson Carlyle came strolling back from the kitchen, a glass of scotch in his hand. “I do,” he muttered. “Johnny wasn’t just an employee. He kept the ledgers under lock and key in case any other employees decided to start changing digits, or in case I was investigated.” Carlyle took a sip of his drink and shook his head. “The only ledger I kept was the straight one; the legit one. I trusted Johnny, he had my back if anything got rocky. Those ledgers are still unaccounted for.”

  “The ledgers.” Matt nodded and looked at the others. “Let’s assume that the ledgers were the item that made Johnny a target. Who’s next?”

  Cynthia crossed her arms. “The body guard…”

  “Wait!” Matt jumped out of his chair and addressed the group. “The lawyer!”

  Bronson Carlyle took a sip and nodded slowly.

  “The lawyer has to be the key.” Matt’s hands waved about excitedly making Kara smile. “He was the first of Mirage’s victims, yeah?”

  They nodded.

  “Why did she use her abilities, to get into one of Melbourne’s biggest law firms?”

  The others looked at him blankly.

  “Why?” He asked again.

  Cynthia stood and walked to the windows. “I get it now,” She turned to Matt, “Why is the perfect question, it covers everything we still need to know.”

  Matt smiled and nodded. “Why did she start there? Why did she go to all that trouble? Why did she kill one of the partners? She didn’t do all this for fun. We know she was working for Ace of Clubs.”

  Bronson turned to return to the bar and yelled back, “This, Ace, wanted something.”

  Matt nodded.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll try and track down Mirage.” Cynthia said leaning forward, “with Kara’s help.”

  Kara nodded.

  Matt slipped the notebook into his pocket. “While you two are tracking her, I’ll visit Fischer & Beckett and find out what Mirage was doing there and why Fischer was the target. For now, you two need to get some sleep.”

  With that, the three of them left Bronson Carlyl
e to his drinking.

  Chapter 25

  Matt stood in the foyer of Fischer and Beckett.

  The firm was a bustle of activity. Since the young Mister Fischer had been murdered in his office only one of the senior partners was left to direct the firm’s business exploits.

  A legal secretary approached him. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

  “G’day,” Matt put on his best smile and pushed some of his long fringe out of his eyes. “I’m a private detective hired to reassess the Fischer murder and look for any loose ends for the federal police.”

  The young woman raised her eyebrow and looked doubtful.

  “Right,” Matt fumbled in his jacket for a folded legal document and drew it out and handed it to the red headed girl. “It should all be in order.”

  The young woman adjusted her reading glasses on her nose and gave Matt a sideways glance as she scanned over the text.

  The document was a secret weapon that Matt had had made especially. He had one or two friends in the Melbourne police department and they were happy to do him a favour every now and then, in return for the occasional tidbit of information that could be used against other members of organized crime. These police detectives were only some of the handful that had been bought by Bronson Carlyle.

  “Okay, you are Mathew Claire, private detective?” the woman looked up from the document.

  Matt nodded and took a sip of his takeaway coffee.

  “Do you have identification?”

  Matt nodded and smiled. He’d taken care of this as well.

  He took the leather pouch from his breast pocket and the woman leaned close enough to read the small print.

  Despite the fact that the items were official, he was still a little nervous. People that worked in with the law were the hardest people to fool, they could see through almost any ruse.

  “Hmm… So what exactly do you need from us, Mr Claire?”

  Matt slid the ID pouch back into his jacket. “I want access to the crime scene and any witnesses there might be. I don’t want to disturb the run of the place. I want to keep this low key and non-invasive.”

  The woman nodded slowly. “I’ll call Hannah, she was Mr Fischer’s secretary. She knows all the ‘ins and outs’ of the partner’s offices and she was there on the day it happened.”

  The red haired woman used her phone to text the secretary.

  Matt didn’t need to wait long before the young blonde secretary stepped out of the elevator.

  She was grinning widely and almost skipped across the foyer. “Hello! I’m Hannah, I’ve been working for Mr Beckett and we have been flat out trying settle everything after Jamie…”

  She reached out and shook Matt’s hand and ushered him the to elevator. “Sorry about the rushing, but I’m crazy busy.”

  Matt gave her a nod of understanding and followed her.

  “So, this is…was, Mr Fischer’s office.” The secretary gestured to the larger office decorated with polished, raw wood and expensive décor. “The police turned the place upside down, I don’t know that there is a lot left to find.”

  Matt stepped into the office and turned in a little circle in the centre.

  The room was immaculate.

  “Do you want me to leave you…?”

  “No,” Matt said as he scanned the room. “I’ll need you.”

  He wandered over to the expensive desk and sat on the soft leather chair.

  “So,” he looked around the room from his new vantage point. “There was a murderer in the office with Mr Fischer.”

  The woman nodded and checked her mobile phone.

  “Hmm…and where was Mr Fischer’s body found?”

  The woman looked up. “About where you are right now, Mr Claire,” she said with a half smile.

  “In this chair?”

  “Not that exact chair… but one the same.” She looked at her phone again.

  Matt began his process of deduction. Fischer was called out of a meeting, according to his sources and had to meet a police officer, which was obviously Mirage.

  From his position on the office chair he looked at the guest’s seats in the office. Jamie Fischer was sitting in his office chair when he was killed, meaning he was either lured there or he was willing.

  Matt ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the desk.

  “Was Mr Fischer concerned by the visit from the police officer?”

  The secretary looked up and paused before answering. “Not really. I thought it was some kind of prearranged thing. He was annoyed to be pulled out of his meeting, though. I think he was expecting the police woman, maybe.”

  “But not his wife?”

  She shook her head.

  Matt nodded.

  Fischer was expecting a visitor. The question was; was he expecting a police officer for some reason, or did he have a meeting with Mirage?

  Witnesses had seen Jamie Fischer’s wife leaving the building.

  “His wife,” The secretary looked troubled when she heard him. “Did you see his wife leaving here that day?”

  The young woman left the doorway and came to sit down on one of the guest’s chairs.

  “I knew Jamie’s wife. She had come to see him, at the office, many times. I had learned to avoid her. I did see her though, leaving and I made myself scarce.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she crossed her arms, “I had been with Jamie a few times.”

  Matt raised his brows. “Sleeping?”

  Hannah’s expression was vacant. She seemed to look past him at the view of the city behind him.

  So, yes, then…

  “So it was definitely her?” Matt crossed his legs.

  “Well, I was sure at the time, but I’ve been through this with the police. I didn’t see her come in, and I didn’t see the police officer leave either. I can’t tell you exactly who came and went that day. It’s a busy place and we barely get time to get our responsibilities under control. That day was the same as any other, busy as hell. I showed the police officer to this office and later I only glimpsed Mrs Fischer leaving.”

  Matt nodded slowly. The secretary, Hannah, was obviously getting a little riled by the memory of the incident. He needed to make his questioning more sensitive.

  What Matt needed from this place was the answer to why Ace of Clubs had sent Mirage here.

  “His wife,” Matt began, “What was she wearing?”

  The secretary screwed up her nose. “I don’t know… some expensive clothes as usual I guess. It was days ago.”

  Matt leaned forward, “Look, you need to just try and remember. Do you think I could ask one of the guys downstairs what she was wearing? You should know by now that men never remember what women wear…” He smiled.

  Hannah had a crooked smile as she shook her head. “Okay, look, it was a…beige top and some kind of jeans or dark blue pants.”

  “Excellent. That’s exactly what I want. Any handbag or jewelry, or a bag?”

  The woman shook her head.

  Matt nodded and looked at the rows of books.

  “Wait…” Hannah put a finger to her lips.

  Matt turned back to the secretary.

  “I couldn’t tell if she had anything like that, because she had her arms across her chest.”

  Matt stood and approached the books.

  “Hannah, could she have been carrying something? Hiding it close to her chest?”

  The secretary shrugged and stared out the window.

  Matt suspected that Ace of Clubs had sent Mirage to the firm to collect something. He wondered if it was possible that Jamie Fischer had given mirage that item before he was killed.

  “Hannah,” Matt began, as he rubbed at his chin. “If Mr Fischer had given an item to somebody dubious, what do you think it could have been?”

  The secretary sat back and crossed her arms.

  “Come on, you know the run of this place. If he was killed to keep him quiet, what do you think he knew?”

&nb
sp; The secretary got up to leave. Her bubbly personality had been steadily fizzling out as the questions dragged on.

  “Hannah, think. This woman, Jamie’s wife, left holding something. Jamie was silenced, so no one would know what she had.”

  “Look, Mr Claire…” she began, as her eyes fixed on the rows and rows of books. “Wait…” Her eyes suddenly met his. “Files.”

  Matt nodded.

  “She would most likely have taken files.” Her eyes were wide.

  “That’s what I think.” He put his hands on his hips. “Files on clients of this firm. I’d put money on it.” The secretary stared down at the floor, ashamed of her employer’s betrayal to the firm. “You can help me find out exactly which files the killer stole.”

  Hannah looked up at Matt and blinked.

  “You were his secretary. He would have asked you to retrieve them for him, especially if they weren’t digital copies.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t. I don’t know which ones they were. Though, he must have got the files himself. I can take you to where he took them from.”

  “The company archives?”

  “Yes. Follow me.” She jumped up and turned quickly on the spot and rushed across the mezzanine to the steps and led Matt to the elevator.

  Matt and secretary stepped out of the elevator.

  There was a fluorescent glow and there was no natural light. They were below street level.

  The archives department was an entire floor and there were permanent staff working down here.

  There was isle after isle of boxes and rows of safes and cabinets. Down the centre of the room were several tables and chairs where a few paralegals studied papers and books.

  Hannah was efficient when it came to locating information in this department. She checked computer logs and timetables on pin boards, but she couldn’t find anything.

  “I’m sorry, Mr Claire, I thought he might have taken the files from here, but I can’t tell if he has or not. If he has, he’s done it without checking them in the system.”