The captain gave a deep, shuddering intake of breath. It sounded wet. His eyes struggled open, and he peered at Jack with a half-focused gaze.
“Jack Stein?” he rasped, the words barely comprehensible.
“Yeah, I’m Jack. What are you doing here?”
“Danuta. Danuta Galvin.” He gasped, gave another deep moist, labored breath, and his eyes went wide. A long slow exhalation, then nothing. Jack shook the shoulder again, and then gingerly withdrew his hand. The captain’s eyes were staring. His chest wasn’t moving at all.
“Oh shit,” said Jack, and stood quickly. He knew what had just happened. He should really feel for a pulse or something. Hesitantly he reached out his fingers to the man’s still-warm neck, but there was nothing. Jesus, he hated dead people. He hated dead people in his living room even more. And when they had just become dead . . . .
“We’ve got a problem, Billie,” he said slowly.
“What?” she said, frowning.
“Our friend here has just died, I think.”
“Jack, do something.” She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Jack reached for the man’s wrist and felt for a pulse, but it was absent there, as well. There was a hole from which the stain across his chest spread, and gingerly, Jack lifted the shirt and looked beneath. It was ugly. He swallowed. He’d seen wounds like that before in his stint in the military. Cardiac massage didn’t look like it was an option; the hole was right over where his heart would be.
“Dammit, there’s nothing to do.”
She glanced from the dirty body on the couch to his face and back again. “Well, cover him up then. He’s looking at me.”
“Yeah, shit, you’re right.” He quickly disappeared into his bedroom, dragged a cover back with him and draped it across the couch, hiding their visitor from view.
Only then did Jack cross to the other chair and look at the bundle lying there. He knew damned well what that was. Crouching down in front of it, he reached out and carefully started to unwrap the bundle, expecting at any moment to be assailed by a rush of images. If this thing was what he believed it to be, he had to be careful. Who knew what energies it might contain? One fold of greasy cloth after one fold of greasy cloth, and still nothing. He grimaced. The final fold lay obscuring what Jack knew lay beneath, and tentatively he pulled back the cloth. There sat the artifact. It was lighter in color than he’d imagined. He crouched there looking at it, still reluctant to touch it. Already it had been the cause of two deaths as far as he knew, possibly more. Who knew what power was trapped within the object, or even what kind of power. He had no idea what might be left by an ancient alien race.
Pressing against a small part of his bottom lip with his teeth, Jack gingerly reach out with a couple of fingers. His fingers merely brushed the surface and he pulled them back quickly. Nothing. Giving a slight frown, he reached out again, this time making firmer contact with the designs on the object’s upper surface. Again, there was nothing. He wasn’t getting a single impression from this thing. The frown growing deeper, he took hold of the thing and lifted it away from the dirty cloth. It was light—far lighter than it looked. He hefted it in one hand, then turned it over, inspecting it from each side. It looked exactly like the sketches and images he’d seen so far. The back surface had a slight bubbling in the gray-black metallic material, as if it had been molten stone, suddenly solidified. He traced his fingers over the surface, feeling the slight pock marks, then turned it over again to inspect the surface. Strange that he was getting absolutely nothing from it. Very strange.
“Jack.”
He turned to look at Billie, who was still standing with her arms wrapped around herself, looking pale and worried.
“Hmmm? What is it?”
“What about that?” she said, gesturing with her head toward the couch.
He chewed at his bottom lip. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, giving a little shake of his head. “I have to think.” And he did. Yet another problem he hadn’t been expecting. He looked back down at the artifact. Okay, whatever he did, he didn’t want this around to prompt questions from someone like Laduce. “Hang on a second,” he told her.
Jack disappeared into his office after wrapping the artifact back in its cloth, carrying the bundle with him. He shoved it in a small cupboard to one side, then returned to the living room, rubbing his hands against each other, then on the back of his trousers, trying to get rid of the greasy feeling left by the cloth.
“What have you done with it?” Billie said.
“Out of the way, for now,” he answered. “There’s something weird about it though,” he added thoughtfully. “But we can think about that later. At the moment, you’re right; we need to deal with our friend here, before he starts to stink the place up.”
She wrinkled her nose and looked away.
“Okay,” he said. “I think I know what to do.”
He turned to the wall and took a deep breath, holding it for a second before proceeding. “Call Police,” he said. He glanced at Billie. She was staring at him. He nodded at her while the connection was established. He knew what he was doing. At least he thought he did. She crossed to one of the chairs, clearly not reassured in the least.
Jack asked for Morrish and was immediately thankful that the investigator still seemed to be there. The big pudgy face took shape on the wall.
“Morrish, I’ve got something for you,” said Jack.
“What is it, Stein?” He was obviously smarting a little from their last conversation. “What is it you need this time?”
“No, Jim, listen,” said Jack. “I think you need to get over here. Bring your partner with you.”
Morrish looked doubtful. “Look, you’ve got to give me some reason to go traipsing over to your place. It better be good.”
“Oh, it’s good all right,” Jack said. “Remember Alan Dean? It’s not a person. But I’ll explain more about that when you get here.”
Morrish frowned slightly. “You need to do better than that.”
“Oh, I think this will be good enough.” He stepped back and pulled the cover back briefly from the body on the couch.
Morrish’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that what I think it is?”
Jack nodded, dropping the cover back into place.
“Yeah, I think that’s good enough,” said Morrish. “We’ll be over right away.”
Jack cut the connection.
Billie and he spent the next twenty minutes sitting in silence, occasionally glancing in the direction of the couch, no words necessary between them. She was still clearly disturbed, not that Jack could blame her. He wasn’t feeling too comfortable himself. Despite the apartment’s systems, the atmosphere was starting to become a little questionable. Finally, the door announced an arrival. Jack jumped up from his chair and headed for the door. It was Morrish, and as Jack had asked, he’d brought his partner, Laduce. The narrow-faced investigator was already glaring at him and Jack shrugged inwardly. Let Laduce think what he wanted. The guy didn’t have to like him.
“What have you got for us, Stein?” said Morrish.
Jack gestured them both inside with his head and led them into the living room. “So?” said Morrish.
Without saying anything, Jack crossed, pulled back the cover from the body on the couch, and stood back. Morrish stood where he was, fingering his chin. Laduce stepped forward, craning around his partner’s bulk for a better look.
“What is it about you, Stein?” said Laduce.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it looks like around you, people keep on ending up dead. What have you got to say about that?”
Morrish waved at his partner for quiet. “Who is he? Do you know?” said Morrish.
Billie was sitting there, not moving. She suddenly got up from her chair and disappeared into her bedroom. Jack watched her go, waiting before speaking. The investigators seemed barely to have registered her presence. That was good.
“This,” s
aid Jack, “is the captain of the Alan Dean.”
“Huh?” said Morrish. “The Alan Dean’s a ship?”
“Yeah. It’s out at the spaceport now.”
Morrish leaned forward, peering closer at the dead man. “Mmm, nasty. Projectile weapon.” He tilted his head to one side. “Dead enough, by the looks of things.” He stepped forward and reached down to feel for a pulse. “Still warm.” He nodded and closed the captain’s eyes. “Yep. He’s dead.”
“So what’s he doing in your apartment, Stein?” said Laduce.
“Not a hell of a lot, Laduce. He’s dead.”
Laduce narrowed his eyes and took a step toward Jack. “Don’t get smart with me, Stein.”
Laduce took another step, but Morrish waved him back.
“It does look kind of funny, Jack, you have to admit. You know, first the name Alan Dean comes up, and then this guy ends up dead in your apartment. You’re looking for a guy called Carl Talbot, the next thing he winds up dead. It’s a bit more than coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Listen, I can’t help how things happen. I called you, didn’t I?”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Stein. Maybe you want to confess,” said Laduce.
“Confess to what, Investigator?” said Jack, barely able to restrain the sneer threatening to creep over his face and into his words. “This guy turns up at my apartment, he winds up dead, and I call you. What more do you want?”
Morrish was still rubbing his chin, looking at the body. He looked at Jack sidelong. “You’ve still got to admit, it’s a bit suspicious, Jack. After our little talk, and now this.” He tilted his head in the corpse’s direction. “He hasn’t been dead long. He’s in your apartment. What are we supposed to think? What was he doing here? How did he wind up dead?”
“He got shot, is how. That’s pretty obvious,” said Jack. “As to who shot him, I don’t know. That happened before he got here.”
“Is that right,” said Laduce, and was quickly across the space between them, patting him down. “Where is it?” he said.”
“Where’s what?” said Jack.
“The weapon, Stein,” Laduce growled into his face.
Jack just rolled his eyes.
Laduce glanced around quickly and the next moment was over by the chair, looking down and nodding. “Well, what have we here?”
Jack felt a sinking feeling as he remembered the gun. With everything else, he’d simply forgotten about it. Laduce reached down, lifting the weapon triumphantly with one finger hooked through the trigger guard. “Well, well, well.”
Morrish looked at Jack accusingly. “You want to explain that?” he said.
Jack sighed. “Look at the thing, Morrish, then look at our friend on the couch. That thing would make a hole the size of a fist. It’s not a projectile weapon, is it? That’s not what killed him. What do you want?”
Laduce peered at the gun from either side, holding it out from him, then curled his lip.
“He’s right, Steve,” said Morrish.
“Yeah, well, we’ll be keeping this,” said Laduce. He wrapped it in a handkerchief and shoved it in his pocket. “It doesn’t explain why you have it in the first place.”
“Come on, Laduce,” said Jack. “It won’t do you any good.”
Laduce just looked smug. Well, let him have his tiny victories . . . for the moment.
“Okay, Stein,” said Morrish. “If you didn’t shoot him, who did?”
Jack shook his head. “Don’t know. If I did, we’d be a lot closer to working this whole thing out, now wouldn’t we? He just turned up here.”
“If that’s the case, what was he doing here? What did he want with you, Stein? Why here?”
“He came here looking for me, to deliver . . . a message.”
“Which was . . . ?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
Morrish pressed his lips together. “Come on, Jack. You have to do better than that this time.”
“I can’t tell you,” said Jack, shaking his head. “He was dead before he could say anything.”
“You’re expecting us to believe that this guy turns up on your doorstep and dies without saying a single word.”
Jack rubbed at the back of his head. “I wasn’t here.”
That stopped them for a moment. They glanced at each other, and then back at Jack, waiting.
There was nothing for it. Jack sighed to himself. “Billie, will you come out here, please?”
A moment later, Billie emerged at her bedroom doorway, looking distinctly nervous. She brushed at her hair, looking from one policeman to the other.
“I was out when the captain turned up. You were here. He didn’t say anything, did he?”
Billie looked at Jack, then back to the other two men, not saying anything.
“We’ll ask the questions, Stein,” said Laduce. “Well?” he said to Billie.
Billie merely shrugged.
“Come on, little girl. Tell us what the man said.”
There was the slightest narrowing of Billie’s eyes at the “little girl” but thankfully she restrained herself. “He didn’t say anything,” she said. “He came, asked for Uncle Jack, then fell over. I helped get him to the couch.”
Morrish spoke then in a much gentler voice. “And your Uncle Jack wasn’t here then.”
Billie shrugged. “Nuh-uh.”
“When did he come in?”
“Maybe half an hour after. I don’t know.”
“And this man said nothing.”
Billie was glancing at the body as she spoke, looking troubled.
“Listen, Morrish,” said Jack. “You’ve heard what you needed to. Does she have to stay?”
“No, no. You’re right. Thank you, Billie,” said Morrish.
Billie quickly slipped away again, back into her room.
Jack looked from Morrish to Laduce, waiting. “Okay, Stein,” said Morrish finally. “And you have no idea who might have done this?”
“No,” said Jack with finality. “How many times do I have to tell you? We can go over the same things all night if you want, but it won’t get us anywhere.”
“Okay, well, we should do something about the body, I suppose,” said Morrish. “Steve, make the call, will you?”
Laduce grudgingly pulled out his handipad and did as he was asked. There was nothing left to do but wait for City Services.
Jack crossed and sat on the arm of one of the chairs. “You might want to get out to the spaceport,” he said. “The Alan Dean’s out there, as far as I know. There might be something out there that can tell you what happened.”
Laduce and Morrish glanced at each other again, simply standing there, looking ill at ease.
“Yeah. Maybe,” said Morrish.
“Don’t think you’ve got away with anything, Stein,” said Laduce.
“Jesus, Laduce. Give it a rest. I’m on your side.”
Laduce just looked sour.
“And while you’re at it, you can give me my gun back.”
Laduce shook his head. “It’s evidence. Until we’ve determined for certain that this is not the weapon used in the shooting, it remains with us. You’ll get it back when we’ve finished the investigation.”
Jack pursed his lips and shook his head. He knew there was no point arguing it. Laduce was determined to make things as difficult as possible, even though he knew full well the energy weapon had had nothing to do with the captain’s shooting.
For half an hour more, they waited in uncomfortable silence. City Services came, dressed in their pale green uniforms, carried out the body, and that was that. Jack followed them out and closed the door after them. He headed into his office and watched out the window while the green-uniformed pair loaded the body into the back of their vehicle, closed the door, and took off up the street. Jack shook his head and went back into the living room to face the hostile glare of Laduce and the more sheepish expression of Morrish.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Jack. “That’s abou
t it. I’ll see you out.”
Morrish nodded.
“Don’t think about going anywhere, Stein,” said Laduce.
Jack grimaced. At least the guy could come up with something original. “If I manage to discover anything else, I’ll let you know,” he said to Morrish as he saw them to the door. He wandered back into the living room, giving the couch a dubious glance, then took up position on one of the chairs.
“Billie, you can come out now,” he called. “They’ve gone.”
Twenty
After a while Billie emerged properly from her room, but every time she wandered past the couch, she glanced at it suspiciously, and refused to go anywhere near it. A few moments later, she disappeared back inside the private space of her bedroom. Normally, by now, she should have been back to dominate the living room, taking over every bit of available space with whatever she was working on, sprawled on the couch and relegating Jack back to his office. He thought about disturbing her, seeing if she wanted to talk about what had happened. He was just about to cross to her door, when he shook his head. No, it was probably better to leave it for now. And besides, he still had something to do. Something big.
He walked slowly into his office, head bowed, considering. It was strange that there’d been nothing from the artifact. And it was continuing to trouble him. Digging the bundle out from where he’d put it, he dropped it on the desk and stood staring at it. Okay, now to find out what was with this thing. Once more, he unwrapped the cloth, eased it from beneath the metal, and dropped it to one side. Once more, he reached out his fingers and traced them over the strange symbols on the artifact’s upper surface. Nothing. It was blank. If something was as old as this was supposed to be, then by rights he should be getting some impression, at least some sensation from his upper abdomen telling him the object had existed, but even that was strangely lacking. He stood back again and frowned. Plucking at his lower lip briefly, he had another thought and stepped toward the desk again.
Metal Sky Page 21
