Liquid Cool (Liquid Cool, Book 1)

by Austin Dragon

  "What?"

  "How much did he pay?"

  "He paid the standard retainer, and I gave him a free T-shirt."

  I threw up my hands.

  "Do I get to talk now?" Chief Hub asked.

  "I'm not talking to you, and I'm not going to even be seen with you."

  "I think, if you let me talk, you will change your mind."

  "Who are these other officers with you? I thought the rank-and-file want you in the meat morgue."

  "They do, thanks to you. These are my sons."

  "Your sons. You have seven sons."

  "I do. All law enforcement."

  "How lucky for you. Wait, weren't you shot? They said you were in the hospital."

  "I was shot, thanks to you. But it was a minor wound, and we used the incident to craft a cover story that was a lot worse, including I was bedridden, so I could move around freely."

  "How's your boss doing?" I asked with a sneer.

  "My boss isn't doing too well either, thanks to you. But he's not talking to me, and I'm not talking to him, ever since he brought in those Up-Top bottom-feeders. Am I going to be allowed to talk about what I came to talk about?"

  "Aren't we talking?"

  "Not what I came to talk about."

  "Then do so and leave. I have to go visit the widows and widowers of fallen cops."

  "You're a real jerk muncher!" one of his sons yelled, pointing at me. "My dad had nothing to do with police getting killed, you lying skell."

  "I'm on the side of the cops. What about you?"

  Chief Hub held back his oldest son. "Stop it! All of you, wait in the hallway. I'll be out in a minute."

  "He's not worth it," the son yelled. "Let him get killed."

  "If he gets killed, then how will I clear my name? All people will remember is his lying prime-time interview."

  Chief Hub pushed all his sons out of the offices and closed the door.

  "Who's going to kill me?" I asked.

  "Yes, who?" PJ asked. "If it's you, then I want my free T-shirt back."

  "For such a clever guy, Mr. Cruz, you're a dummy. You're a marked man, Mr. Cruz. Metropolis is on the brink of collapse. Who wants that?"

  "Your Up-Top friends," I answered.

  "They are not my friends! They're the Mayor's friends. Weren't you listening? I'm not on speaking terms with the Mayor anymore. No, Mr. Cruz. The gangs want the chaos to continue, so they can carve up Metropolis into nice manageable slices. It's the gangs."

  "Yeah, I've heard that already. I'm already ahead of you, as usual, so you can go."

  "No," the Chief said and folded his arms.

  "What? I told you to get out of my office."

  "Mr. Cruz, I'm giving you 24-hour security until this crisis is over."

  "What, you and your seven sons?"

  "My seven sons, me, and the cops from Internal Affairs."

  I laughed. "Internal Affairs?"

  "They're police, too."

  "But police don't think so. What are you trying to do? Ruin my rep with the real rank-and-file. No, I'm not taking any security from you."

  "Then who? These sidewalk johnny jokers you have around you like flies? When the gangs come, what will they do? Throw a hat at them? None are armed. Gangs, Mr. Cruz, are."

  "I'll figure out something."

  "What, you and your personal cyborg?"

  "My name is Punch Judy! And I'm about to punch you in the head, stupid man!"

  "You can go now," I said to him.

  "You don't seem to get it, Mr. Cruz. One of the top animal gangs in the city has a contract out on you."

  "What?"

  "You know what a contract is?"

  "Stop being offensive. What are you talking about?"

  "Monkey Baker has a contract out on you. That means any—any gang member can collect on it."

  "Who or what is Monkey Baker?"

  "I know you are quite familiar with his crime organization. Monkey Baker runs the Animal Farm Crime Syndicate."

  "I thought—"

  "You thought Red Rabbit did, Mr. Cruz? The gang member you killed or left for dead. No, Mr. Cruz, he didn't run it. You have no one to blame, but yourself. You went on national TV and announced to the world that one of the top leaders in his organization was on the payroll of the cops. In the gang world, that's the same as saying he is, too. He has to kill you, or every gang will kill him."

  I felt queasy in my stomach all of a sudden.

  "What's it going to be, Mr. Cruz? You want to do your perp walk alone, or could you use police protection? I don't care what you say, because we're protecting you. You and I are shackled ankle-to-ankle from this moment forward, you punk. You think I'll let you destroy 40 years of my police career without a fight? You will clear me in the eyes of my people."

  "Okay," I said. "We start now. I have a hoverlimo waiting. Let's go pay our respects to the men and women who are convinced you got their loved ones killed." I could see the toughness in Chief's Hub's face soften. "What's wrong? Not so eager to do your unwelcome police protection?"

  "My son is right. I should let Monkey Baker have you. If I didn't care more about this city than I hate you, I would."

  "Good, because I hate you too, pompous bastard. Maybe, I'll get to see some real cops shoot you again."

  "Maybe, I'll get lucky and get to see some gang skell punk shoot you. I hear you have quite the problem with strange people shooting at you."

  "Yeah, they don't like my hat. Maybe, they'll try to shoot me and hit you instead."

  It would have gone on forever, but a smiling PJ said, "Can you two continue your conversation outside? I have a business to run."

  We left, and later I learned there was another "high-level" client she wanted me to call, but had forgotten to mention the messages were on my desk. It didn't matter. The calls or meetings wouldn't have made a bit of difference for what came next.

  On reflection, my combat-drop strategy was majorly flawed. It worked for Flash to drop me off, but what about leaving the building? Out into the rain, we went—me, Chief Hub, and his seven sons. We could hide all we wanted with our hooded dark slickers, but there were many ways to identify a person if they really wanted to. All we heard was...

  "Hey, Cruz!"

  I recognized the voice. I looked up and saw the Hippo waving and smiling without his animal mask, but with the black airbrushed eye sockets. He walked to me, and I walked to him. It may have been centuries old, but I saw the Godfather when I was a kid with my Pops. I reached him and flicked my wrist.

  Pop!

  Before he went down, I saw the flash of anger on his face as he realized he wouldn't be able to assassinate me so easily. The cyborg yelled, fell back and crashed to the ground; a burning hole in his chest. Then we saw them. These Hippos, all with their masks on, came out from the shadows with guns blazing.

  Civilians scattered as the gang members took positions at one end of the street, and we took cover where we could—close to the tower walls and low. Thank goodness for the rain and the steam from the vents. Hub took his position in front of me and returned fire, like a maniac; I heard two Hippos cry out. His sons followed his lead, but two of his sons ran off. Based on what I was seeing, this was not a coward family and no cop in this city, even a scumbag like Hub, would run away like a scaredy-cat against criminals, no matter how out-gunned. I hoped they had a hovercar somewhere with laser machine guns in the trunk.

  I looked up again, and this time, I saw it. People were jumping out of a hovercar onto the buildings. The Hippos had the firepower to hold us, but not overpower us. They were buying time.

  "They're stalling for time," I yelled at Hub.

  "So are we," he answered back and continued firing.

  There are times you see things you've never seen before, and it takes days to process it. The sky traffic above us just stopped and hovercars began descended to the ground. We heard doors opening and saw them. In all my years, I had never seen an entire sky-lane of traffic stop and drop lik
e that. The gunfire from the hovercars almost cut us to pieces right there. It was a miracle we weren't killed outright, and that none of the bullets, laser beams, or laser rounds hit us. We scrambled back as fast as we could into what shadows there were.

  Hovercar after hovercar landed, and out came the animal gangs— Jackals, Pigs, Lions, Unicorns, Snakes, Toads, Lizards, and others I couldn't make out. One hovercar zipped to a stop, right above us, with the door already open and a Monkey at a side mounted machine gun. I didn't hesitate and shot him right in the head. He fell over and crashed ten feet to the ground. Another Monkey pushed two others out of the way and jumped onto the machine gun turret. He was dressed differently than the others—they were all in chocolate brown suits; he was in a bright, white-silver one and tie. Was this Monkey Baker, the head of the Animal Farm Crime Syndicate?

  I shot at him too, but hit only the turret. An explosion of gunfire erupted from behind me. I physically jumped, startled, and looked back. Chief Hub had a compact machine-gun in his hands. At least, the scumbag was prepared. I looked back to see, who I suspected was Monkey Baker strafed by bullets, jump back into the hovercar, another Monkey fell out to crash to the ground, and then, the vehicle blasted off and away.

  One often played Cowboys and Indians as a kid with sonic toy guns or colored paint shooters. Everyone always wanted to be the Cowboys to defeat the Indians. This wasn't that. This was the Battle of Little Big Horn, and I was General Custer, and that meant, I was about to get killed badly with all my men. The barrage of lighted gunfire from these deranged animal masked gang members was overwhelming. We were encircled by neon signs and neon bullets coming at us every which way. There were just too many of them.

  "This is the police! Drop your weapons!"

  The voice rumbled through the air and seemed to come from the heavens above as if spoken by God. Silver-and-black police "PEACE" officers descended from the sky via their silent jetpacks, like black rain, blitzing them with more intense gunfire than seemed possible.

  These gang members had really stepped in it. To us, it seemed like world war with 5,000 of them firing at us seven guys, but now, 500,000 jetpacked police—thousands of points of light—descended from the black sky, firing at them! It was a bloodbath. I was certain that every gang gunman was hit dozens of times by police gunfire, and they were still taking bullets and laser rounds. Bodies collapsed to the ground; their hovercars shot apart and exploding. This wasn't world war; it was the End of the World for the Animal Farm Crime Syndicate. Hub's two sons had brought the Cavalry to the rescue all right, with not a moment to spare. I had never ever, ever, ever seen so many cops in the sky—no one had.

  Whoever Monkey Baker was, he was done. His Animal Farm Syndicate was done. The Metro Police would track down every last one, until every last one was dead or in jail. Monkey Baker would not have time to think about me ever again, let alone come after me. A smile crept onto my face as I watched the silver-and-black event before my eyes. A few police incursions like this in key points of the city, and Metropolis would be crime-free...well, for a week, at least.

  "How did you learn to shoot so well," one of Hub's sons asked me, almost annoyed by the fact.

  "Video games," I answered.

  Securing the scene was elevated to an insane new level. The entire street was locked down, and that meant, twenty miles, in either direction, on the ground with a human net of hovering police in the air. I couldn't even comprehend how the coroner's department would clear a body count of this magnitude. Exe said there was a time that criminals were killing 10,000 people a weekend. Such numbers were beyond my ability to grasp. That was too many innocent faces. Hopefully, the cosmic scales had been balanced today.

  The standard procedure was done and officers walked to me. The sight of what amounted to a ground armada of silver-and-black peace officers approaching me...I couldn't swallow hard enough, but at least, I knew they were on my side. Chief Hub and sons must have been soiling themselves and I noticed how they got closer and closer to me as the crowd approached.

  "You!" It was Wilford G. Jr. He pulled off his half-visor helmet. "We're glad you have a death wish, because that wish will be granted."

  "Why do you think we're here?" Hub yelled back. "You jokers weren't providing proper protection."

  "Protection? We saved your asses," an officer yelled back.

  "If you all hadn't abandoned the city, this would never have happened!"

  "Abandoned? Says the man who let his own officers get gunned down," a female officer yelled.

  "I had nothing to do with it!"

  The officers had engulfed us, and every one of them had their long guns in hand. I could see the sweat pouring down the side of Hub's face. A hovervan descended slowly, and I could see Wilford G. Jr. and the others gesture for the officers to clear a space. The vehicle landed a couple of feet from me, and the door opened. Inside were families—adults and kids from toddlers to teenagers.

  "Mr. Cruz," one of the women said. "We've been trying to get you to come to us, but it seems with your busy life, it's better and easier to come to you. My husband was one of the officers killed at the Sweet Street Shootout."

  She and the other spouses introduced themselves.

  "Why is the murderer here?" one of the women in the hovervan yelled, looking at Wilford G. Jr.

  "I am not a murderer," Chief Hub answered back. "I had nothing to do with it."

  "Is your Mayor master going to have those Up-Top spaceships try to take over the planet?" asked another widow. "We're going to blast them from the sky."

  "I have nothing to do with the Mayor or them, either," Hub answered.

  "Tell me, Mr. Cruz," asked one of the widowers, holding his little son's hand, "Are you going to identify everyone involved in this plot? Are you going to tell us the masterminds behind the death of my boy's mother? The mastermind behind the death of all our loved ones?"

  "I am," I answered.

  "Is he one of them?" he asked, pointing directly at Chief Hub.

  If I were evil, I could have lied, and Hub and Sons would never have left that street alive. But I was a good guy, so I couldn't, but it was interesting to feel what true temptation to the dark side felt like. Hub, undoubtedly, was holding his breath. One word from me truly could end his life.

  "No, not him," I said. "He's just a scumbag, who wanted to play politics. There's another who's the mastermind. Or the co-mastermind. The criminal animal gang leader, Red, was one. This person is the other half. And their time is coming to an end soon. However, before I concentrate on finishing the job, I must ask: Can you all secure the city first? People are hiding in their homes and businesses. They can't walk the streets in safety. People can't send their kids to school. I know you haven't had a chance to do any tours, but Metropolis is a ghost town. The criminal punks think they run the city, now, and not you. Can you take care of that? I'll take care of my end. Can that happen?" I looked at the widower, holding his son's hand. "This city doesn't need any more widows, widowers, or orphans."

  The families in the hovervan and the officers looked at each other.

  Wilford G. Jr. spoke up, "We can do that, but not him!" He pointed at Hub.

  "I'm no fan of the Chief. He and the Mayor tried to destroy my life, but he saved my life. I don't know if his motives were pure. Probably not, but if he wasn't backing me, I'd be dead, period."

  "Let's do what the man says and restore order to the city," Hub said. "If you want to get me, then all you have to do is organize a recall or demand the Mayor replace me or replace the Mayor, but not this."

  "This was the only way to break through the cover-up," one of the widows said.

  "I don't disagree, but my way would have accomplished the same thing," Hub said.

  "Yeah, if we wanted to wait for the next twenty years," another officer said

  "It would have taken time, but it would have happened," Hub said back.

  "But then, the people responsible are never the ones who pay for misdeeds," Wilfor
d G. Jr. said.

  "You want my job?" Hub asked him directly. "We can switch jobs, right now. Say the word."

  Wilford's expression said it all. He was not interested, nor was anyone else.

  "Being a revolutionary is easy," Hub said. "Running a department of 500,000 men and women in a 50 million supercity is a far different thing. My humble suggestion is we send 90% of the forces to do what the man says and take the remaining 10% with me back to City Hall and get those Up-Top spaceships off our planet! That should be acceptable to everyone, because if there's a possibility of any real violence, City Hall is where that will be. Maybe, you'll get what you want after all, and I'll get shot for real there."

  The two sides stared at each other. I had to get the ball rolling.

  "Can someone escort me to my hoverlimo?" I asked. "It's not what it sounds like. It's donated. A guy, like me, with a red Ford Pony can't exactly drive around incognito. Let's bring this whole matter to an end and get the bad guy."

  It worked. Cops volunteered. I knew the tension wouldn't go away soon, if ever, but at least, the city could get its streets back.

  Chapter 61

  Police Watch

  AS I SAT IN THE HOVERLIMO, with Flash at the wheel and two police cruisers following as escorts, I reflected how this whole mess unfolded. Run-Time gave me a simple gig, and it snowballed into this. Since I planned to make this my new permanent career, I hoped this was a once in a lifetime event. I don't think my nerves could handle any repeats.

  "Oh, Mr. Cruz?"

  "Yeah."

  "Mr. Run-Time is sending his security to meet you at the Watch Division."

  "The cops are protecting me now."

  "You can never have too much security."

  I nodded. "After today, never a truer statement was spoken."

  We arrived at Police Watch Division, and there was Run-Time's VP, The Mick, waiting. He had a compact machine gun in hand and behind him were no less than a dozen armed men. I exited the elevator capsule, and he spoke into his cupped left hand. He lowered his hand as he approached me, and the two police officers with me.

  "I'm leading Mr. Run-Time's additional private security for Mr. Cruz. Everyone calls me The Mick," he said to the officers.