Watch Dogs

by John Shirley

  “No worries, dude. Come on.”

  Shuggie waved the other Viceroys away, sending them back in their own vehicles to the perimeter, as he got into the Duster beside Renfo. Wolfe and Seline got in the back.

  They turned left at the corner, following the drone, as Wolfe continued to direct it on ahead. A few blocks down was a police barricade, with two CPD patrol cars parked radiator-to-radiator across the street at the corner. A barricade was up—and several cops were arrayed around the barricade with shotguns.

  “They got nicer barricades than you do, Shuggie,” Wolfe said.

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Wolfe,” Shuggie said, slowing the car to a stop a block from the police barricade.

  Seline looked at Wolfe. “I hope so too, Wolfe. Christ. Those cops aren’t going to like whatever it is you’ve got planned...”

  Wolfe looked up at Shuggie. “You willing to drive up on a sidewalk, Shuggie? And over a lawn? Can you do it without wrecking this Duster?”

  “Man I got the best shocks there is on this beauty. My baby can slam over a speedbump at sixty miles an hour, no problem.”

  “Okay. Just try to do it without running anybody over...”

  Wolfe tapped the PearcePhone, thumbs working the app. He could see the street, in the phone’s screen, from the point of view of the drone’s high def digital camera. The image showed the cops and their barricade, ahead and below. The cops had just spotted the drone, pointing upward at it, open mouthed. Some of them probably thought they were seeing a UFO. All the better.

  He had to aim the drone carefully...

  Peering into the phone’s screen, Wolfe moved the crosshairs with careful flicks of his thumbs, got the drone’s gun sighted in on the cops...then he moved the crosshairs so that it was aimed just a few steps short of them.

  He licked his lips—and tapped the fire button. Twice.

  The drone fired, smacking two bullets into the street in front of the police at the barricades.

  One of them fired up at the drone, the others scrambled back behind the cars. He tilted the drone toward the cop firing at it—and the guy turned and ran, joining his police pals.

  Wolfe fired twice more into the hoods of the patrol cars to get the cops to back away from them. It worked...

  And he sent the drone down in a crash dive.

  The UAV whined down like a bomb and smashed into the hoods of the two unoccupied cars, coming down right in between them.

  The cops flattened—and the drone exploded.

  “Now, Shuggie!” Wolfe yelled.

  Shuggie accelerated, roared down the street, then cut to the left, driving up on the sidewalk. The car bounced and bumped and then he was screeching it across the lawn of the corner house. He turned left, down off the sidewalk, and burned away down the street.

  Wolfe looked back. The cops were still flattened in the street. He doubted any of them had gotten the license number—they were too shaken up by the drone attack. Anyway there was no reason they could assume that the car was connected to the drone.

  Shuggie cut right at the next corner, veered around several pot-holes, then cut left again. He got on his car’s Bluetooth, and called the address in to his lieutenants so they could keep an eye on the area.

  That made Wolfe a little nervous. He never knew for sure what the other Black Viceroys might do.

  “Well I got to say, that was interesting,” Shuggie said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that one. Going to be a story to tell. I’m sorry I didn’t get it up on youtube.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Wolfe said. “But—you ever check out SystemLeaks?”

  “Sure, a few times.”

  “Check it out today. See some interesting files just uploaded there. So—you want to come up to my place, have a glass of Scotch?”

  “Sounds good, Wolfe.”

  They drove to the crumbling old tenement that housed the Pearce safehouse Wolfe was using. It was starting to snow, a little, as they drove up.

  “Doesn’t it ever get serious about snowing around here?” Seline asked when they got out of the car. “I mean, I’m from Georgia, but I thought we were far enough north here...”

  “Oh, later in the year,” Shuggie said. “One time we had a blizzard...what the fuck?”

  He nodded toward the broken down fence of the tenement...where Detective Tranter was just stepping into view, pointing a gun at Wolfe.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “The drones saw you, Wolfe,” Tranter said. He was about fifty strides away, slowly walking toward them. “Whatever scrambling system you’re using didn’t help you with their cameras. Starling called me. He got your man Shuggie’s car there on ctOS...and we came to meet you. What’s up with this shitty old building you’re headed for? You got a hideout in there?”

  “You talk pretty confident, detective, for a man outnumbered and alone,” Shuggie said.

  “Oh I’m not either one, gangbanger,” Tranter said. He made a gesture, and four Graywater mercs stepped out from the behind the building, walking up to join him. They were all armed with Mack 10s.

  “We didn’t know where you were going after you crashed that drone,” Tranter said, drawing a gun. “But since the street’s blocked off up past this spot and you parked right back over there...Well, we worked it out and here we all are! Now--here’s the deal. You three surrender to me—and we’ll give Shuggie a good deal on a prison term for all that shooting back there. The lady—I can’t say for sure what’ll happen to her. Wolfe, well, maybe he’ll live through it, if he surrenders. Better than dying right here.”

  “I’ll think on that,” Shuggie said.

  Wolfe had his hand in his coat pocket, was activating the PearcePhone.

  He muttered, “Seline, distract them. Non violently.”

  He said it just loud enough for Shuggie to hear, too.

  She stepped forward, “Stop there, detective, and let’s work out a deal. Otherwise we’re gonna have to open up on you. That bullet proof vest you’re wearing under your coat isn’t going to protect your head.”

  Tranter paused, stood his ground. “What the hell are you up to, lady?”

  “Just give me one minute. Let’s make a deal, as the man says...”

  As she spoke, Tranter was looking toward her, frowning, and Wolfe had the phone out. He transmitted the file he’d set up earlier on Tranter—to everyone within a ten-block distance. Then he sent a text informing everyone who’d received it of Tranter’s whereabouts right now...

  “Maybe if you let me and Shuggie go, we could avoid blowing your brains out,” Seline was saying.

  “Sound pretty good to me,” Shuggie said.

  Wolfe, sending the text, was pretty sure...pretty sure...they were just playing Tranter.

  “Hey boss—” It was one of the Graywater Mercs, whom Wolfe recognized from the rooftop gunfight just before he’d swiped the helicopter. “That guy’s screwing around on his phone!”

  Tranter turned to Wolfe—and pointed his gun at him. “Drop that phone!. Or you can go down right now. Up to you.”

  Wolfe clicked the phone’s sensitive speaker-mic on, so it’d pick up his voice, and dropped it, hoping the case he’d put on it would keep it from breaking. “So I guess if I’m not yet dead, there’s someone who wants to interrogate me...”

  He glanced around at the neighborhood. He hoped the Black Viceroys in the area were as close as he’d figured.

  “...but the thing is, Tranter,” Wolfe went on, raising his voice so the phone’s speaker device would pick up on it, “...you’re well known for racial profiling. I’ve been looking up your history. And you’ve backed it in the department. And you’re famous for targeting not only blacks...but Black Viceroys. I sent all that data, summarized, out just now. I’ve been saving it...so I think you’re the one who oughta surrender.”

  Tranter snorted. “If I hassled Black Viceroys it’s cause they’re gangbanger scum—they specialize in stealing cars, they take protection money from businesse
s in their turf.”

  “Ten percent, that ain’t much,” Shuggie said, sounding reasonable. “How much you take from the Club, Tranter?”

  “That’s right,” Wolfe said--loudly. “Tranter’s in with the Club. And the Club’s been moving in on Black Viceroy turf...and now Tranter’s threatening to kill Shuggie!”

  “You not aware, Tranter,” Shuggie said, “That I had some of my people move in on this area before we came. And there’s more coming, I’m guessing...”

  He looked at Wolfe. Who nodded.

  Whistles came, from behind the building. Voices. The sounds of a crowd converging on the area.

  Tranter’s eyes widened.

  “Down, Seline!” Wolfe shouted, pulling his .45.

  “Take ‘em out!” Tranter commanded. The Graywater Mercs raised their weapons.

  Wolfe threw himself flat beside Seline. Shuggie jumped behind a parked car.

  Mack 10s rattled and bullets sucked through the air where Wolfe had been a moment before. Wolfe extended his arm, aimed, fired, all in a second—and one of the Graywater Mercs, shot through the head, fell backward, dead before he hit the ground.

  The others quickly fell—shot to pieces, despite their vests, by heavy AR15 fire coming from the left, that tore into their legs and blew off their heads.

  Tranter looked desperately around—then ran. But a phalanx of Black Viceroys were coming at him from that direction, walking quickly, in ragged but closed ranks.

  Tranter stopped and backed up...then turned and started between the two half-ruined tenement buildings...but from that direction, striding up past the big Black Viceroys tags, came five more Viceroys, pointing their weapons at Tranter.

  Tranter dropped his gun, put his hands up, waving his badge. “I’m a police officer! If you harm me, they’ll never stop looking for you!”

  Shuggie was up now and walking toward Tranter. “The department gonna do all that for your sorry ass, Tranter?” He laughed.

  The encircling Black Viceroys closed in on Tranter...

  Wolfe got to his feet, helping Seline up. “Wolfe—they’re beating him! All of them! They’ll kill him!”

  “Yeah,” Wolfe said. “It’s a sad thing. Even though Tranter’s a corrupt, murdering dirt bag. Come on, let’s go upstairs and have that drink...”

  #

  Starling’s face appeared on Verrick’s desktop, in a webcam video. Verrick knew what the report would be just from the look on Starling’s face. “Sir, Mr Verrick, sir, we lost track of him...We think he’s somewhere in Black Viceroy territory. There is one possibility...”

  Verrick was at his desk, looking at the first reports of the SystemsLeak upload. He closed the news window, and looked at Starling.

  “Starling...” Verrick had to pause a moment, to get control of himself. He was in his Blume office—he didn’t want to start shouting about this, in here. He found a roll of antacids on his desk, and flicked a tablet into his mouth, began to chew. His stomach felt like bubbling cauldron of hydrochloric acid. His back was aching; his head was throbbing. He was thinking seriously about having an Oxycontin.

  “Sir yes sir?” Starling prompted.

  “Starling—have you seen the SystemsLeak uploads? They’re already hitting the net.”

  “Sir, yes sir. I have been monitoring the situation. I would like to point out that they went mostly to alternative news sites. The story hasn’t been picked up yet by the New York Times and CNN. We could unleash the Purity cyberhack team and take down the mainstream news sites. The way the Syrians did to the New York Times--”

  “Starling, I told you never to mention Purity in any transmitted communication!”

  “Sir, sorry sir. But we could bring down those news sites...”

  “No, no, that’d just make it look like someone was hiding the truth—if it came out that we...no. Instead...I have another plan. Most of this stuff in this file is just people connecting the dots. There’s no real proof against me or Van Ness in it. What I need is...I’ve got to talk to you in person, Starling. How far away are you?”

  “Sir, not far, sir, I was directing the...”

  “Never mind. Meet me on the roof of the Blume Building. You’ve got the all-access card.”

  Verrick cut the connection and decided on half an Oxycontin. He had to stay functional.

  He took the half pill, lay down on his office sofa for a while, and tried not to think...

  Twenty-five minutes later, he was up, and heading to the roof.

  It was damned cold up there. But he was a little numb from half a synthetic morphine pill, and bundled in his overcoat and hat and leather gloves.

  Starling arrived a couple minutes later, not as warmly dressed, and cringing into his old Army cold weather coat against the Hawk wailing across the rooftop.

  There were two miserable looking Graywater mercs up there, standing sentry, rifles over shoulders, tramping back and forth to keep warm. Verrick made a mental note to get them relieved. He didn’t need these guys starting to think disloyally out of resentment.

  Verrick and Starling took shelter in the lee of the elevator housing, out of the wind, the two of them pressed close to the housing’s wall. “Well, Starling, what else have you got to tell me?”

  “Sir, the bodies of Four Graywaters were found dumped in the Club’s turf, about ten minutes ago. And there was another body with them. It was barely recognizable, but—they think it’s Detective Tranter.”

  “Tortured?”

  “Sir, beaten to death. Black Viceroys, judging from the chatter I picked up. . .Sir.”

  Four Mercs down. And Tranter. An important ally.

  Would he even be able to keep the Graywaters working for him, with this kind of attrition rate? He’d have to double, maybe triple their pay...

  “Sir, you had a plan about blocking that upload, s-s-sir?” Starling’s teeth were starting to chatter in the rooftop cold.

  “No, that horse is out of the barn. My plan is to see that anyone who could substantiate those accusations has...an accident. Maybe in some cases—the same accident.”

  “S-s-sir?”

  “Blume is planning a demonstration of some new tech. Prototype self-driving cars. There’re four people in this town who can connect me with that missing money. And maybe with Purity. And we don’t want anyone talking about Purity. Some of these people might start panicking about now, what with this SystemsLeak stuff. Going to the Justice Department, maybe. Try to cut a deal.”

  “S-s-sir, th-that w-would—”

  “Will you stop that stuttering, Starling? Just shut up and listen. This is what I want you to do...”

  #

  “Ow!”

  “You’re the one said you didn’t need a regular doctor,” Wolfe said, stitching the wound closed. “Best I can do. I got pretty good at it in the field, up country...There.”

  Wolfe was sitting close beside her on the sofa of the folded-up sofabed. He leaned back to look critically at the minor wound on her shoulder. “You’re gonna have a scar. But that’s okay, you’ll be more badass that way.”

  “Stop being a smart aleck, Wolfe, and cut the thread.”

  He cut the thread from the needle. “How about some more local anesthetic on that?”

  “You call that stuff from the corner store a local anesthetic? Forget it.”

  “Hey don’t get mad at me, I didn’t shoot you. You jumped into this thing with both feet, Seline.”

  “Yes I did. I was thinking about jumping out again. But not because somebody shot at me.” She took a pull on the Scotch. “Because I was involved in something that got bullets flying around a neighborhood in Chicago where there were ordinary, unarmed people—people who could’ve caught those bullets. We don’t know for sure someone didn’t get hit by a stray bullet.”

  “Haven’t seen it on the local news yet.”

  “I hope we don’t see it, Wolfe. We did see something on the news about five bodies being dumped.”

  “Those mercs had to know they we
re working for the bad guys. They didn’t care. You makes your choice and you takes your chances.”

  “They beat Tranter to death.”

  “After years of abuse from him.”

  “So that makes it cool?”

  “No. It doesn’t. But you know, if we hadn’t had help from the Viceroys, we’d be dead by now. And there’s something big coming down, Seline. Something that could involve thousands of deaths—maybe millions. And a plot to take over Chicago. Use it as a base against the rest of the country.”

  “You told me. You really believe that’s what they’re planning?”

  “It fits like a jigsaw piece. Fits right in with everything I know about these creeps.”

  She seemed to brood over that. “If I was sure...”

  He stood up. What he had to do now, for Seline, was going to take an act of will...

  “You know what, Seline--you don’t have to be sure. You can walk away from this. And you should. You’ve been in firefights at my side. You kept your head. You stuck by me. You did the job. You were a stand-up soldier. And you did what you came here to do. You uploaded your friend’s file. It’s making its way across the internet. You don’t need to be here anymore. You can leave Chicago.” He kept his voice gentle, as he said it. He knew he was angry—because he simply wanted her with him. Close to him. And that was selfish. He had to suck it up, and let her go. “I think you’re right--you should walk away from this, and leave it to me and Pearce. When I get more evidence, you can testify to the Justice Department with us. I’ll call you.”

  Seline blinked up at him. She seemed disappointed. There was no figuring women.

  “You want me to go?” she asked.

  He didn’t. But he kept his face deadpan. “I think you should go. Tomorrow morning.”

  He made himself walk to the bedroom, close the door, and lie down on the cot.

  Wolfe, he told himself, you got to let her go.

  You’ve got to face it. You’re on your own in this thing. Can’t get Shuggie in this anymore. Can’t expect Pearce to be out here on the firing line, ducking bullets.