Liquid Cool (Liquid Cool, Book 1)

by Austin Dragon

  "Officer Break and my partner, Officer Caps."

  "If I may suggest a security strategy," The Mick said. "I will maintain a close detail on Mr. Cruz. My men can take positions in the hall and secure the restrooms on the floor. You can maintain security of the main elevators."

  Officer Break nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

  "Mr. Cruz," The Mick said and gestured me to follow.

  I didn't like this and couldn't wait for life to return to normal. Bodyguards were supposed to be an as-needed thing, not a permanent part of life. Politicians, rock stars, and gazillionaires could keep the life. I wanted no part of it.

  We arrived.

  Exe may have been worried, but she was one of those people with an outgoing demeanor that radiated congeniality. She walked me through the underground watch room of the division. I was being given a tour of a place most people had never and would never see, which seemed strange. The civilian Police Watch Commission was comprised of only civilians to protect civilians, but the civilian population had no oversight over them.

  Weeks ago, when I was doing my own informal survey of the Police Watch Commission, I called a random sampling of criminal defense lawyers from the Yellow Pages. I made up a cover-story that I was a victim who wanted to sue the police. They all laughed at me. One lawyer put it succinctly, "Body-cams on police monitored by the civilian Police Watch Commission made the City legally bulletproof." Police brutality criminal cases were nearly impossible to prove, even before the body-cam regime. The main reason wasn't police protecting their own or political cover-ups, but because civilian juries wanted police to beat up criminals. But that left the domain of civil cases, which was where trial attorneys lived and, for ages, became filthy rich, suing the police. But, that was a long time ago.

  There was the main executive committee of the Police Watch Commission, who maintained their watching duties, but there were tens of thousands of watchers on duty at any given time, manning the body-cam feed from police in the field. Police could not engage in any contact with the public or suspect without an active body-cam interface. It wasn't police procedure; it was law, mandated by the Police Union contract.

  Everyone in the City knew someone on the Police Watch Commission, even if they didn't realize the fact. All 500,000 active police in the city were not on the streets at the same time (except for the unfortunate animal gang skells who tried to assassinate me earlier), but even being off-duty, on vacation, or in the station doing work, nearly 100,000 were in the field. And that is, actually, how many police watchers were here at the Division, plugged in.

  Exe pointed to an old picture on the wall, just before she introduced me to her colleagues. It was over thirty years old and showed a younger and more slender Exe. Everyone in the photos was there in the room, as she introduced me. There was Cisco, who as a twenty-something pseudo radical, looked rather cool with his ponytail, but as a sixty-something, with practically all his natural hair receding to the point of invisibility, his ponytail looked rather silly—like a seventy-year old with a twenty-year old buxom girlfriend. Let's be age appropriate shall we? There was Mr. Link and Ms. Mosaic. Exe had an afro in her youth, but she let that go a long time past. Ms. Mosaic still had hers, tall, fluffy, and who knows how much time she spent having it dyed black; her eyebrows were natural gray. Mr. Link wore these old zoot suits that I remember wannabe gangsters used to wear, hanging out on the street. They looked synthetic and cheap on them, and looked the same on this old guy, too. Every member of the executive board was a social radical in their youth, but here, they were in their sixties and seventies, still trying to maintain the fiction, except for Exe. It was real back then, when they started, but it was all show now. They were all so booshy with their mansion-sized apartments, multiple hovercars, when they weren't being chauffeured around by hoverlimo, all their kids well-placed in society, their grandchildren attending the best universities. I didn't like fake people, which was one reason I liked Exe. She didn't pretend to be something she wasn't anymore.

  "And the President of the Commission, Mr. Stone," Exe introduced last.

  "Ah, the thin man," I said.

  He laughed. "I'm too thin, Mr. Cruz."

  "Let's move to the Watch chambers," Exe directed. "We can't keep Mr. Cruz here all day."

  "Yes, Mr. Cruz is Mr. Popularity these days," Mr. Cisco said.

  "Tell me, Mr. Cruz," Ms. Mosaic began. "You're a champion of the people, a champion of the cops..."

  "An enemy of the politicians and an enemy of the criminals," I said. "But then, I repeat myself."

  She liked my little joke and laughed.

  "True champions of the people rarely last long without becoming politician or criminal," Cisco said. "What's your views on the megacorporations trying to take over Metropolis, Mr. Cruz?"

  I gave him a slight frown. "Don't all your children work for megacorp firms in Silicon Dunes and a few of your grandchildren got megacorp college scholarships?"

  Exe quickly jumped in. "Mr. Cruz is here for a tour, not political debates."

  "You seem to know a lot about us," Cisco said. "Did your new cop friends share the FBI files on each of us with you?"

  I paused for a moment and said, "Yeah."

  There was nothing special about the chairs they sat in, maybe some extra padding, but no cup holders or any compartment for a mobile. Each row had six chairs across, and there were six rows in each room. Exe was the last to sit in the front. They all donned black opaque shades and sat back in their chairs. Behind the lenses glowed white; the virtual reality interface was activated. They were plugged into their designated police person.

  I stood at the back. Each room had its own army of technicians to monitor and maintain the hardware, and legal aides to consult with every Police Watch Commissioner by headphone, as needed. It all looked so low-tech but all this was the foundation of the Metropolis civil and criminal justice system.

  "What brings you to Police Watch?" Mr. Stone asked me when they had their first extended break after 45 minutes in the chair.

  We had convened in the break room for refreshments.

  "I wanted to see how it all works for myself," I answered.

  "Mr. Cruz, we must thank you for getting the police back on the streets. There can be no Police Watch without police."

  "The system looks so simple, but I bet it's far more sophisticated than I think."

  "It is," he answered. "You're looking at the only full-use digital technology anywhere in Metropolis. Actually, when Police Watch was formed, we were hand-picked to pilot the conversion to digital. Decades later, we're still the only one, but our record is spotless, and none of the city divisions can say the same with their outdated analog tech. We have moved into the new. Do away with the cables and cords for wireless and near-teleport transference. I've been a strong advocate for pushing technological advancement. That's why humans are in space."

  "Well, some humans are in space," I said.

  "Don't worry about those things, Mr. Cruz. No one can stop the progress for all. They can try, but they always fail."

  "The technology Police Watch uses is the same as is used Up-Top."

  "That's correct," he said. "That really is the only reason all of Metropolis doesn't use the newer generation technology. Nationalism. They use it, so we won't. That's how low modern politics has become and, unfortunately, the thinking of the average Metropolitan."

  "The heart of this whole crisis is where the body-cam tapes went from the shootout in question."

  "Yes. Quite the mystery, but I have faith in our techs. Since you're a detective, maybe you can give them some ideas."

  "It's funny you say that. I said the same thing."

  "Do you have any theories? It's shocking to think that someone at Metro Police or the Mayor's office could break into Police Watch and erase the tapes of that day. A true scandal. They should be fired for such incompetence."

  "You know what I think about when new technology comes around? All the new ways criminals wil
l find to exploit it. My girlfriend says I have a very dark view of the sunny things in life, but that's just the way I am. I remember, when I was a child, I read a story that whenever the latest and greatest safes came out, criminals would be the first to buy them in bulk, so they could break it apart and learn everything about it and learn to break into it. If you could break into one, then you could break into them all.

  "When I was kid, I used that same principle to get into hovercars. I spent time at hovercar repair shops and the salvage yards. I learned all about cars from the scraps. I learned how to build them from the ground up. Once I understood the basic concepts, I could build any car, from an old junker to a classic, like my Ford Pony.

  "The Police Watch's body-cam interface is some kind of technology. Deceptively simple, but it's all digital tech. Easy Chair Charlie told his buddies he'd make enough money to buy his way Up-Top. Easy didn't brag, and he never went anywhere without his wife. So, he was talking an astronomical amount of money times two. That's what made me keep looking at the system over and over again. My OCD tendencies are like that. They won't let me stop, until I get to a resolution. Then I figured it out. Is the system the Police Watch uses fool-proof, hack-proof? That's what Exe was scared of. If it was shown that the system was hacked into, then that would put every past, present, and future case in jeopardy. Lawyers could argue their criminal punk clients didn't do this, and because the system was hacked, it would render all videos inadmissible in court. We'd be back to eye-witness only testimony, which would put the whole court system into chaos."

  I could see Exe wasn't smiling as she and other Police Watch people were watching me, quietly, but nervously.

  "Well, I'm happy to say one thing."

  "What's that?" Stone asked me.

  "The interface wasn't hacked."

  I could see them all breathe a sigh of relief.

  "The system recorded that night perfectly. The incident was even watched live, as it should have been. There were no unauthorized entries, but no recordings of that night were filed. How is that possible?"

  "It's not," Stone said. "There are a minimum of two watchers per police team, and every watcher has to sign off on their partners to end their shift, and when their shift is over, the recordings are logged."

  "Isn't it funny how we humans say that computers are in error, when in fact, they are doing exactly what we programmed them to do? Then we get mad at them, because we're too dumb to remember what we programmed them to do. The police watch system, even now, isn't faulty or broken. It did exactly what we told it to do."

  "We don't understand you, Mr. Cruz," Exe said. "Our techs have been over the system hundreds of times at our direction and on direction of Police One, City Hall; a lot of people want this. This city is holding its breath, until we can find those tapes or determine how they were destroyed."

  "Sometimes, humans can't even properly read all the data it collects," I continued. "They can't see the patterns. Some great data people work for the city. They mentored me, when I was a police intern. Looking at the data, sometimes, the patterns are hard to see. You have to stare at it and assimilate all the data over days and weeks to see it. But you know, sometimes, things are so obvious, it's sitting right there in front of you."

  "Mr. Cruz, I'm sure you fancy yourself a clever person, but I, for one, am getting bored. What is it you think you found that all of our techs haven't?" Cisco asked.

  "You said there has to be two people on the same police watch team to end a session and send the recordings to file?" I asked.

  "Yes," Exe answered.

  "What if there was only one?"

  All of them were thinking. The techs and the legal aides were thinking. Everyone trying to figure out my riddle.

  "People," I said. "If you program a computer system not to end a session until two people are plugged into a session and sign off, then you get an error or...it goes into stand-by mode and recordings stay in the resident memory...forever."

  "He's right," a tech said. "But that can't be. A shootout of that magnitude would have had as many watchers as police officers. Fifty officers were on the scene that night."

  "58," I corrected and looked at the Police Watch President. "When you look at who was logged in as watcher for Officer Bus, it was you. And Officer Boot, you. Officers Singletree and Azure, you. Everyone was only looking for unauthorized access into the system. They saw the trees and examined each closely, looking for an outside unauthorized user, but no one ever stepped back to see the forest, look at the big picture. How did you manage that, Mr. Stone? You were the designated watcher for all 58 officers on scene at the same time. What was the plan, Mr. Stone? You found an unbelievable, exploitable vulnerability in the system. Sell that knowledge to the Up-Top criminal world? With that, they could break into global banks, raid government general funds; maybe sell to terrorists to crash a space cruiser into a lunar base? They could manipulate the entire City's criminal justice surveillance system through its very own police force. Recordings could be changed, modified, replaced from within the system itself. Untraceable. Foolproof."

  Stone stared at me, like he was a mannequin.

  I said, "Easy was your go-between, but something this big...you couldn't leave him alive, because he could identify you. You couldn't take the chance, especially when he wanted to take his wife and himself to join you in the Up-Top good life."

  I pointed at him with a simmering anger. "You killed my friend, and now, you're going to burn for it. Don't bother to run, because there are police and security all over this floor. You thought you were some great master criminal, but you're like every other criminal punk who trips themselves up in the end. Note to self: when you meet your criminal partner, who wears a stupid rabbit mask in a dark alley somewhere, it might be a good idea not to drive your own personal hovercar there, which can be captured on video. There it is, Mr. Stone. What do you have to say, now?"

  Say? Mr. Stone did what so many people recently seemed to like doing—he shot me.

  "Sir, just remain still," the medic said as I looked up at the ceiling in a haze.

  My chest felt like a Hippo had punched me center-mass.

  "Your bulletproof vest took most of the blast," she said.

  My chest didn't think so. I turned my head and tried to sit up.

  "Sir, don't sit up." Despite her objection, I did anyway.

  Mr. Stone was lying, not far from me, dead! His eyes wide open and there were bloody marks all over his shirt, a knife sticking out of his belly, and a pool of blood slowly growing around the body.

  I looked at the crowd behind the yellow crime tape. On one side were the Police Watch Commissioners, including Exe. They all looked at me quietly, almost indifferently. On the other side, were Wilford G. Jr., Chief Hub, and a whole lot of police. Their expressions were as empty as the Police Watch. Finally, there was City Hall—the Mayor and council members.

  The main coroner arrived and looked at Stone's dead body and glanced at me. He noticed my gaze, so he knew I didn't kill him. He looked at the Police Watch, the police, and City Hall. A tiny smirk appeared on his face.

  "Junior!" he yelled.

  A kid ran to him in medic crime scene attire.

  "Junior, it's your lucky day."

  "Yes, Mr. Del?"

  "You get to be the primary coroner on one of the biggest cases in Metropolis history."

  "Really, Mr. Del?"

  "Yes, really. Your case, beginning to end. In fact, I have so much confidence in you, I will vacate the scene and let you work," he said and took off his surgical gloves. "Yours will be the only signature on the reports."

  "Oh sir, you won't regret this. You won't."

  "I know." The main coroner glanced at me before disappearing out the main door. I could hear the commotion of gathering media outside.

  I stood to my feet, slowly, as two medics helped me. A Police Watch commissioner was lying dead in a secure Police Watch room. I realized all three groups were wondering what I would do. I
started this case getting shot at and ended it by getting shot at. I was officially done. I held my chest and walked to the door.

  "Mr. Cruz!" the reporters yelled.

  The only thing more disturbing than the city's reporters knowing you by sight was seeing a few wearing T-shirts with your face on it.

  "Mr. Cruz, what happened in there?" one asked.

  "They say the real mastermind of the Sweet Street Shootout was a Police Watch Commissioner."

  "People," I stopped and said. "Metropolis has to heal and get back on its feet. Please let it do that. I followed a lead here and confronted the man. He attempted to shoot me, and he was killed by security. That's it. He and the gang leader were behind it all for what all these criminals are about—money. So please don't write any false stories of grand conspiracies. Two criminals tried to do a crime. They got caught. They got killed. That's it. I'm going home, and you better let the city heal. Now, get out of my way."

  The media cleared a path for me as I walked by, holding my chest.

  Chapter 62

  The Mayor

  I PRETENDED TO BE IN more pain and anguish than I was, because waiting for me at the Concrete Mama was my new sidewalk johnny army, courtesy of Phishy. The cheers and applauding gave me a headache. Inside my own place was the next bit of madness with my concealed-weapon Ma and my sword-toting Pops. She would mother me to death, which is what all mothers do, so I closed my eyes, from time to time, as she spoke. Finally, they let me go to bed. Dot stopped by, but I was so exhausted that I couldn't move. My body wanted to merge with the covers and bed and never emerge again.

  Is this what a real case was like? I wouldn't make it to 40, let alone 92, if there were many more cases like this one. Well, I made it to the end alive and case solved. My next appointment was with sleep.

  I really didn't want to go back to the office, but I had to. I had a business to run, and I suspected I'd have more clients than I could handle.