Kop k-1

by Warren Hammond

  The battle lines were finally clearly drawn-Simba, Nguyen, and the mayor versus Paul, Bandur, and me. “How is the mayor planning to bring down Chief Chang?”

  “I don’t know that part. Simba never told me. All I know is they talk every day, so they can coordinate things.”

  “Who tipped you off about our witness?”

  “Mayor Samir.”

  “Mayor Samir?”

  “Yeah. He came to my boat to tell me.”

  “He was on your boat?”

  “That’s what I said. He told me that a cop-”

  “Which cop?”

  “Some guy named Kim. This Kim told the mayor that you guys had a witness, so the mayor came and told me about it.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “I just told you.”

  “Tell me again.”

  Mdoba used a nursing-home voice-slow, loud, and deliberate. “He said that Kim from Homicide Division came and told him that there was a witness to the Vlotsky murder-some peeping-tom kid. He recited the kid’s name and address for me, and then he left.”

  Make Yuan Kim our rat-fink cop.

  Maggie stepped over and leaned into Mdoba’s line of vision. “Do you have proof that the mayor came to your boat?”

  “I have it on vid. I know how to cover my ass. He may be mayor, but he ain’t half as smart as he thinks he is.”

  “Where’s the vid?”

  He was grinning now. “How ’bout lettin’ me walk outta here?”

  Sasaki said, “Tip, I think Juno could use your help.”

  Tipaldi moved in fast. He yanked one of Mdoba’s hands toward the monitor who was hungry for seconds.

  Mdoba shrieked. “STOP! STOP! I don’t know where it is. STOP!”

  Tipaldi stopped. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  Mdoba panted, “I gave it to my girlfriend. I told her to hide it.”

  “Where’d she put it?”

  The monitor was snapping at Mdoba’s just-out-of-reach hand.

  Mdoba said, “I don’t know! I told her not to tell me where she put it. If you don’t let me outta here, she’ll have it destroyed. Call her. She’ll tell you.”

  We needed that vid. It was our smoking gun. I turned to Sasaki. “What do you say?”

  Sasaki fingered his lapels, shaking his head no.

  “Paul needs this,” I said with determined desperation. “You have to do this for him.”

  “Leaving a traitor alive is bad for business, Juno. We can’t have people thinking it’s okay to betray us.”

  “He’s already lost most of his fingers. Tell people you let him live so that when people see his hands, it’ll remind them of what happens to traitors.”

  Sasaki was thinking it over.

  I said, “Paul won’t survive without that vid, Matsuo.”

  Sasaki rubbed his face with a pinkyless hand and gave the smallest nod.

  I called Mdoba’s boat. Malis’s buxom hologram dropped into the kitchen. I had it one-way conferenced-everybody could hear her side of the conversation, but she could only hear me.

  “Have you ever met Mayor Samir?” I asked.

  “Sure. He came to the boat to talk with Sanders.”

  “What about?”

  “You want the vid, don’t you?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Sanders told me to hide it. He said that if he got in trouble, I should use the vid to get him out. Is he in trouble?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “How can I be sure?”

  I let Mdoba’s voice on the line. “Do what he says, babe. Everthing’s gonna be okay if you just do what he says.”

  “Are they going to kill you?”

  “Not if you do what Juno says. Okay?”

  I cut Mdoba off then spoke to Malis. “I want you to bring the vid to me.”

  “I want money,” she said. Mdoba tensed.

  “I don’t think you understand,” I said. “If you don’t bring me the vid, he’ll die.”

  “I understand just fine. Go ahead and kill him, I don’t care. How much can you pay?” Mdoba was fucked-sold out by his squeeze.

  Mdoba turned wild at her betrayal. He was shouting and flailing his half-hands. The kitchen air crackled with lase-fire. Mdoba took three hits, the last to the head. Tipaldi kept his lase-pistol on target until Mdoba slumped over dead. Tipaldi put his piece back in his belt.

  Maggie was stunned. I shrugged.

  Malis and I settled on price. She told me she was already on her way back to Koba to retrieve the vid. She said to meet her at Club Dynasty on Bangkok at 2:00 AM.

  I rang up Paul. His holo dropped into the Kapasi brothers’ living room, setting off another round of hysterical lizard fits. “Paul, it’s Juno.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We have confirmation that Mayor Samir and Carlos Simba are conspiring together. They’re planning to take you and Bandur out.”

  Silence dragged on the other end. Paul said, “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “Mdoba’s girlfriend is selling us a vid of the mayor telling Mdoba about our witness. We’re meeting her at-” I almost said the name of the place, but I smartly held back. No telling who could be listening in. “We’re meeting her in a couple hours.”

  “You want backup?”

  “No,” I said. Yuan Kim was a confirmed rat. C of D Banks was a likely rat. And it might not stop there. At this point, I didn’t trust any cops not named Paul or Maggie. “We better do this alone.”

  “I understand. Bring it to my office as soon as you get it. We’ll hash out how to go about getting the mayor neutralized.”

  “Got it. I’ll see you there.”

  Paul sounded more exhausted than relieved. “Thanks, Juno.”

  I clicked off.

  Maggie came up from behind and spoke in a quiet voice, not wanting Sasaki and Tipaldi to listen in from the kitchen. With all the lizard chatter coming from the cages, she didn’t have to worry. “How long is this going to take?” she asked. “We have to get moving.”

  “It’ll probably take Tip another ten or fifteen minutes to finish cleaning up. We’ll hitch a ride back to Koba in Sasaki’s flyer. We have plenty of time.”

  Maggie didn’t look pleased about the idea of riding back with Sasaki and Tipaldi. “They didn’t have to kill him.”

  “He was no use anymore.”

  Maggie shook her head disgustedly.

  “What?” I said. “You really care what happens to a piece of trash like Mdoba?”

  “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You act like this was no big deal. They fed a man’s hands to a monitor for god’s sake and you could care less.”

  “What do you think we did to that guy in Tenttown? And that bartender?”

  “We didn’t kill them.”

  “No. I just beat the shit out of them.”

  “I know,” she said, and she covered her face with her hands. “That was wrong. I shouldn’t have let you do it.”

  “If I hadn’t done it, we’d still be wondering how our witness got killed right in front of us.”

  “This isn’t why I became a cop, Juno. I wanted to do good.”

  “We are doing good, Maggie. We’re going to stop a corrupt mayor.”

  She looked me in the eye. “But KOP is corrupt. You’re corrupt. The chief’s corrupt. And now I’m corrupt. What good does it do to stop a corrupt mayor when we’re corrupt ourselves?”

  “No. We’re different from the mayor. The mayor’s out for himself. He’s conspiring with slavers. ”

  “You and Chief Chang conspire with those animals in there. You really think you’re better than the mayor?”

  Her words cut right through me, the way the truth always did.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  JUNE 32, 2787

  It was time to meet Malis. Maggie and I cruised through the city. I turned onto the Bangkok
Street Strip. The street was still abuzz with late night action. Cars weaved helter-skelter with bikes zipping in between. Partiers rollicked in every direction, brandy glasses in hand. Signs interleaved so tightly over the narrow street that they created a neon ceiling. I parked at the end of the block rather than battle my way down the pedestrian-crowded street.

  We stuck to the less crowded street center as we walked. Broken glass crunched under my shoes. Flashing neon stung my eyes. Doormen solicited offworld passersby with megaphone-amplified shouts of “First drink free” and “Live sex acts onstage.” My brain fizzed with overload.

  The Club Dynasty doorwoman collected cover charges in full S amp;M regalia: monitor-hide skivvies and studded collar. She play-whipped customers through the door. I passed her a couple bills. She ran her whip up my thigh, stopping just short of my crotch. I ducked the hand she extended toward my temple. She moved for Maggie, touching the device attached to her fingertips to Maggie’s temple, bombarding her brain with pornographic imagery. Maggie jerked away. I should’ve warned her.

  Club Dynasty blared with eardrum-rattling dance beats. The dance floor was fogged over with O smoke. A small number of offworld men laid down dance moves with scads of Lagartan women who were wearing homemade miniskirts and cheap high heels. The women were battling for the affections of the offworld men. Hopes of finding an offworld suitor brought them out to the clubs with Cinderella dreams.

  It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. An offworld man would fall in love and take one of our women up to the orbiting castle in the sky. For her, it would be a dream come true. She’d never go hungry, and her life expectancy would be extended by a hundred years or more. But marrying an offworlder was rare. For most, the night would degenerate into a ruthless slut-off competition. The one who ground and teased the best would get to sleep with the offworlder, all but certain to be discarded the next morning.

  We circled the dance floor, scoping tables for Malis. Discount perfume and opium smoke burned my throat. Maggie grabbed my elbow and pointed. Malis was in a wraparound booth surrounded by doped-up bar trash, passing an O pipe.

  Maggie showed her shield to the group. Malis smiled and waved in drug-stupor stupidity. Higher-than-a-kite girlfriends cleared out and weaved to the dance floor. Maggie and I escorted Malis to the restrooms. There was a line at the women’s. A steady stream of women was coming out with freshly poofed hair and water-doused shirts that clung to braless bods. We took her into the men’s. The bathroom was empty except for two offworld men swapping stories at the sink. One modeled marbled skin that made him look like statue. The other was going with his everyday look-chiseled chin, sharp eyes, and a beguiling smile. A genetically enhanced ten. I badged them out.

  Maggie seized Malis’s bag.

  Malis objected in a punch-drunk whine. “Heyyy, that’sss mmmine.”

  Maggie pulled the drawstring, reached in, and handed me the vid. I wrapped my hands around it like it was the Holy Grail. The mayor’s going down.

  “Youuu cccan’t have that. It’sss mmmine.”

  I passed her the overstuffed money envelope.

  Malis leaned into me, breasts first, looking for a new sugar daddy. “Hhhey, baby. You wwwant to ppparty? I’ll show yyyou a good timmme.”

  Maggie pushed Malis away. “Let’s go.”

  We moved back through the club. Maggie stopped. I looked over her shoulder. A badly dressed man had entered the club. I recognized him instantly-Carlos Simba. I grabbed hold of Maggie’s elbow and led her across the dance floor. Gyrating bodies closed around us. We bumped our way through the sweaty mass to the other side and beelined for the back exit.

  We dashed through the door. The alley dead-ended to the left. We sprinted right. An offworld car was parked at the end. I tried to stop and turn back. My ankle rolled over. I fell down hard. Maggie helped me up. The offworld car was emptying. Four figures were coming our way. We started trying doors-locked, locked, locked. Simba came out of the Club Dynasty door in front of two offworld heavies. I snatched the vid out of my shirt, scanned for a place to toss it out of their reach-nothing. Shit. Another door-locked! I clutched the vid to my chest. We were so close!

  I kept my weight on the good ankle and faced the oncoming figures. They sashayed through ferns and alley trash with an offworld economy of movement. Maggie stayed next to me, putting a proud face over a terrified one.

  There were seven of them all told. The offworld thugs didn’t even bother to take our weapons. They knew how useless they’d be against offworld tech.

  The seventh figure came face to face with me. Crime lord Carlos Simba said, “I’ll take that.”

  My hands were viced onto the vid. I should go for my gun. I might be able to kill Simba before they react. Or I could hostage him, use him to get us and the vid out of the alley. Simba was staring me down, his hand held out for the vid. Offworlders surrounded us, clacking finger blades and flaunting brass knucks that emerged from under their skin. I calculated my chances-zero, zero, zero. I handed over the vid. I felt I was passing over KOP with it.

  Simba tossed the vid over his shoulder. One of the thugs caught it and read the data with eye implants. “It’s authentic,” he said.

  Simba stood in front of me-slicked hair, peaked forehead, and a poor-fitting store-cut suit that matched his man-of-the-people image. He was going to kill us. My legs went weak. I thought of Niki trying to go it alone and sank to my knees, my ankle wrenching uncomfortably under my weight.

  Simba talked to Maggie. “Mayor Samir would like you to know that your deal is off. What good is an informant that chooses not to inform? He is very disappointed in you. You would be well advised to resign from the police. The mayor promises you nothing but shit duty as long as you stay. Consider yourself very lucky that we’re not going to kill you.”

  Maggie didn’t shrink from him. “Why not?”

  “A dead cop with your family connections would complicate matters. There’d have to be an investigation, and that just doesn’t fit into our plans at the moment.”

  Simba looked down at me.

  I got to my feet, swallowing the ankle pain, summoning my emasculated self upright. Kill me standing up.

  Simba roughly patted my cheek. It bordered on slapping. He didn’t say a thing. He just turned around and walked down the alley, brushing through the ferns.

  I yelled at his back. “Are you afraid to kill me yourself?”

  His entourage of offworld goons turned to follow. They piled into the offworld vehicle and powered off, mysteriously leaving me alive.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  We left the alley. I refused Maggie’s help and limped. The ankle didn’t feel broken, just a sprain. I tried calling Paul for the third time-no answer. I called his home. His wife, Pei, answered: no, she hadn’t seen him; yes, he was still at the station; he must be in one of his meetings-that was why he wasn’t answering.

  Maggie said, “What do we do now?”

  “We have to go see Paul. I have to talk to him.” I started for the car.

  “How did Simba know about the vid?”

  I threw my hands up. How did he know?

  Maggie grabbed my elbow. “Tipaldi.”

  I ran the possibility. The only people who knew about the particulars of the pickup were Sasaki, Tipaldi, Mdoba, Malis, and the two of us. Mdoba was dead, and Sasaki would never tell Simba. “You’re right. It has to be Tipaldi.” Unbelievable. Everything was going to shit. I half-stepped as fast as I could on the bad ankle. My heart raced dance beats as I hustled down the mossy sidewalk. “Tipaldi is the top strong-arm in the Bandur cartel. He has access to Bandur’s books. If Simba flipped him, Bandur is going down-soon. I have to see Paul.”

  We covered the distance to the car in no time. We hopped in and raced to the station, not saying a single word on the way.

  We left the car down the block and hurried into the station. Cops stopped what they were doing to watch as I half ran, half limped up the stairs. I felt a cop tug on my arm. “Not
now,” I said. I tore my arm loose from the grasp and my other arm was grabbed. Suddenly there were hands all over me. “What the fuck are you assholes doing? I have to talk to the chief!”

  I heard Maggie protesting then I saw her on the floor, knocked down. I went berserk. I dug my feet into the floor. I couldn’t feel the ankle pain. Cops reached for my legs, to pick them up. I kicked frantically, making contact with hands and shins until the first leg was seized, then the second.

  I jerked violently against their hold as I looked back for Maggie and saw her at the end of the hall, some uniforms blocking her path. They took me into interrogation room two, threw me to the floor, and locked me in. I beat a chair on the floor until it came apart in my hands. Then a second one. I started on the table but ran out of steam before it broke. Three chairs left, I sat in one of the tall ones and waited.

  This was it. The mayor had made his move. KOP was in his control. I wouldn’t be stuck in here, detained by my fellow officers if it wasn’t. I had to hope that Paul was still operating freely, finding a way to turn things around. The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that that was the case. Paul was one resourceful bastard. It would take a lot more than the fucking mayor to stop him. All I had to do was wait it out. Paul would spring me out of here, and Maggie and I would get back to work. We’d lost the vid, but we’d find other proof.

  We made a good team, Maggie and I. She had a lot to learn, but she was sharp. She was right about there being little difference between Paul and the mayor, but it hadn’t always been so. Paul tried to make a difference. It wasn’t until he’d so clearly failed that he gave up and started looking out for himself. Who could blame him? How could anybody fix this place? The fact was he did try, which was more than I could say for myself. All I ever did was tag along.

  Maggie was having a hard time picking the right side in this fight. I knew what side I was on. Paul was my friend.

  The door opened-Gilkyson. He saw the broken chair and stepped out, coming back in a minute later with two well-built uniforms.

  I turned on the smug. “What’s wrong, Karl? You afraid of something?”

  Gilkyson set a box on the table then sat in the short chair. What a dumb shit, sitting in that chair. When we’d grill somebody, we’d sit him in the short chair. It was a chair just like the others, but the legs were cut down by a few centimeters-made the suspect feel inferior having to look up at the interrogators.