Kop

by Hammond, Warren

  “Mayor Samir tried buttering me up, asking me about my family like he was all concerned about how they were doing. He talked about how good my mother looked when he saw her at the banquet.

  “Then he asked about you—how I felt about partnering with you. I wanted to sound believable, so I decided to tell him I couldn’t stand you. When he asked why, I told him that you were dirty, a disgrace to KOP. He went on to ask me why I didn’t refuse to be your partner. I said that I had no choice; Chief Chang gives the orders. I have to play the game to move ahead.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “Then he started asking how I felt about taking the chief’s orders. I said I didn’t like it, and that I’d heard the rumors about him and the Bandur cartel. Then when he asked if I believed those rumors, I told him that I was inclined to believe them, especially after I’d seen how dirty Chang’s old partner was.”

  “Then what?”

  “Next, he wanted to know how I’d feel about taking his orders instead of the chief’s. He offered me a deal. He wants me to snitch for him, be part of his anticorruption investigation.”

  I was studying her closely, her voice, her body language. I could tell she was being honest with me. “What did he offer?”

  “A fast track to a lieutenancy after Chief Chang’s forced out.”

  “Do you still think the mayor’s innocent in all this?”

  “Not anymore. He was pushing me hard to take the deal. When I finally told him I’d take it, he wanted to know all about the Vlotsky case. He has to have a personal stake in it.”

  “What did you tell him about the case?”

  “Just that we solved it.”

  “Did he believe you?”

  “I think so.”

  Maggie had played him flawlessly, telling him things he already knew about Paul and me, getting him to think of her as an anticorruption zealot, and an ambitious one at that. She was a natural—maybe better than Paul.

  “Why’d you decide to tell me about this?”

  “Because you’re my partner.”

  I grinned at that. She trusted me, and I trusted her. We were true partners. “Tell me something, Maggie. Why did you kiss my cheek last night?”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s because you remind me of my father.”

  If I had any romantic notions left, that put an end to them, once and for all. “Are we a lot alike?”

  “Actually, you’re nothing like him. It’s the way you and I interact that reminds me of him. He and I never agreed on anything, but that never got in the way of us caring for each other. Even when we were dead set against each other, we always had this respect for each other. That’s the way I feel when I’m around you.”

  I nodded my head, very glad I hadn’t made a move for her last night. I thought of Maggie and me having a father-daughter relationship and decided I was just fine with that.

  Maggie said, “I want you to help me construct lies to tell the mayor.”

  “So now you want to be my double agent?”

  “No.” Maggie was wearing a sly grin. “I want you to work for me.”

  I laughed. “For what purpose?”

  “To take over KOP. I’m going to be chief one day, Juno. Things have to change. Lagarto can’t go on this way. A clean police force can change everything.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Who better to help me take over KOP than somebody who’s already done it once?”

  “Are you asking me to overthrow Paul?”

  “Of course not, but he won’t want to be chief forever.”

  “I don’t enforce anymore.”

  “I won’t ask you to enforce for me. I want to do this clean.”

  “That’s impossible. It can’t be done.”

  “Is that a no?”

  “Yes, that’s a no. I’m quitting after this case.”

  twenty-six

  THE lights of the Loja pier appeared off the bow. I hung up with Niki. She’d called when she woke up, giving me the usual postbinge earful. “It’s late….Where have you been?…Paul doesn’t own you….I thought you told him you wouldn’t run his errands anymore.”

  The understanding attitude she’d had this morning was long gone. I knew it wasn’t entirely about me. She was feeling bad about herself since her pill-popping relapse, and she was redirecting all that self-loathing at me. I came back with the standard excuses….“This time is different….Paul really needs me on this one….It’s almost over.” More bitterness than normal slipped into my voice—I was angry at her for scaring me by pain-pill binging and angrier at myself for neglecting her and then angry at her again for calling my neglect to my attention when I already knew. It wasn’t going to be easy getting things right between us.

  We rode past Mdoba’s docked boat. His bikini-clad girlfriend Malis was on the deck grooving to a tune. She didn’t see us. She was too involved in self-involvement. We landed on an empty pier. Maggie and I hopped off without waiting for the skipper to tie up.

  I broke into a heavy sweat as the two of us kept up a brisk pace on the walk to the Kapasi brothers’ falling-apart home. Sneaking up from the outside, we checked the front and back windows—nobody home. I went for a basement window, closed my eyes, and stuck my head through the jungle shrubbery that had overrun this side of the house. Thorns scraped my skin; twigs slapped my cheeks and forehead. I pressed my face against the glass, straining to see through the basement window…holy fuck.

  I reached a hand back through the brush and gave Maggie a come-here finger curl. Mosquitoes bit on my face as she rustled her way through the shrubs. Her cheek slid against mine into position at the window.

  I tried to keep a cool head as we took in the scene. A dozen laser-clawed and razor-jawed monitors thrashed in their pen. Their metal teeth sparked as they gnashed on the bars that ran floor to ceiling. Their laser-claws scratched at the cement floor in a frenzied scramble to push through the gaps. A piece of meat flew through the bars and landed on the floor where it was torn into a half dozen pieces.

  Outside the pen, Sanders Mdoba’s oversized frame was on all fours, lase-blade in hand, sawing through human bone. Body parts lay all over, blood streaming into a floor drain. He successfully severed an arm and slid it through the bars, then moved to the head, his lase-blade slicing clean through neck flesh, getting hung up on the vertebrae. He sawed the blade back and forth, finally cutting through in a cloud of bloody steam. He stood up, his tent-sized clothes stained red and black, and tried to shove Sanje Kapasi’s larger-than-normal head through the bars. It stuck momentarily, monitors snapping at the backside, until Mdoba used a shoulder to shove it the rest of the way through.

  I counted the remaining limbs—three legs, one arm. Jhuko and Sanje Kapasi.

  Maggie and I pulled free of the jungle scrub. We jogged around to the front door and into the house. We strode purposefully through the house as lizards screeched all around us. I slinked through the basement door and crept down the stairs, Maggie following sure-footedly. Mdoba was hacking through ribs, the lase-blade blinking on and off from overload. I moved up on him from the rear, the racket from the monitor pen covering my approach. Smoke-filled air made my eyes water. Mdoba pulled a side of ribs free—BBQed at the edges. I pushed my piece into the middle of his back, sinking it into his ample flesh. He froze. Maggie moved around front, her piece held level.

  He let the blade drop from his hand; the beam flickered out. He put his hands over his head and submitted to the frisking like a pro. I relieved him of his lase-pistol. When he saw who I was, he tried to act all buddy-buddy saying, “It’s good to see you, Juno. How’s Niki?”

  I led him upstairs without speaking. He tried to bullshit me the whole way, telling me he was here doing Bandur’s business, and that Sasaki was gonna be pissed when he found out I’d interfered.

  I made him sit on the kitchen floor. Sanje Kapasi’s prized monitor strained at its chain, the smell of carnage driving it near insane. I thought about frying it just t
o shut it up.

  Mdoba rested his back on the wall, looking defiant instead of defeated. It would be tough to break him. My stomach sickened at the thought of torturing him. Maggie was waiting for me to take control, but I procrastinated as I tried to summon my temper. I was drawing blanks. I wanted a drink.

  I told myself, fuck this. Just do it already. I tucked my piece away and moved in on him, my fists ready to do some damage.

  Living room lizards suddenly went berserk. Somebody was here. Maggie wheeled on the kitchen door, her body in a crouch, her weapon extended. I stuck my piece under Mdoba’s double chin, pushing through the fat and pressing on his Adam’s apple.

  Matsuo Sasaki came into the kitchen with his muscle, chef-killer Tipaldi. Both their hands up.

  “What are you doing here?” I wanted to know.

  “Paul called and gave me the news that Mr. Mdoba betrayed us to Mr. Simba. We called his girlfriend, who was gullible enough to tell us where he was.”

  “That dumb cunt.” Mdoba wheezed.

  I shoved my weapon deeper into his throat.

  Maggie butted in. “You can’t have him. We’re going to arrest him.”

  I shot her a warning look.

  Sasaki didn’t take offense. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Maggie. You see, the criminal justice system doesn’t offer a punishment severe enough to fit the nature of Mr. Mdoba’s betrayal.”

  Maggie’s eyes drilled into Sasaki. “You’re going to kill him.”

  “Why of course we are, but not until we’ve had a spot of fun. You don’t know the kind of anguish we’ve felt since your chief told us how disloyal Mr. Mdoba has been. But fear not, I will give you the opportunity to speak with him first. However, you will limit your questions to Mr. Mdoba’s involvement in any schemes masterminded by our Lojan friend, Mr. Simba. It is only along these lines that our interests overlap with police interests. You will not question him on any illegal activities outside of that realm. Is that satisfactory?”

  Maggie stayed silent.

  “Deal,” I said, glad to be relieved of torture duty.

  “Excellent, Juno. You’ve always been most…practical.”

  “Where’s Ben? Shouldn’t he be here?”

  “That he should, but he had to stay home. He’s suffering from an infection in his reconstructed nose. The doctors told him not to swim, but he didn’t follow their instructions, and now he is suffering magnificently.” He turned to Tipaldi. “If you’ll do the honors, Tip.”

  Tipaldi darted in, dropping knucks on Mdoba’s nose, barely giving me time to step back. A few quick shots and he had Mdoba seeing double, his nose swollen beyond the confines of his already fat-swollen face. Tipaldi pinned Mdoba’s arm under his own and dragged Mdoba’s heavy form across the floor. Mdoba was squealing now, his heels kicking at the floor, failing to find purchase.

  Tipaldi yanked and pulled the resisting Mdoba into the monster’s reach, holding Mdoba’s hand out as a snack. It came back less three fingers.

  Maggie turned her back. I eyeballed the whole scene. I’d done worse. Four fingers later he was ready to talk—the reward: a quick death instead of a part-by-part dismemberment.

  Sasaki told Tipaldi to get him cleaned up. “You can’t expect a lady like Officer Orzo to look at such a mess.”

  Tipaldi found a couple towels and wrapped what was left of Mdoba’s hands. Maggie stayed planted where she was, her back turned on the ugliness.

  I wiped the sweat off my face, and spoke slow and clear. “You work for Simba.”

  “Yes,” Mdoba answered.

  “When did you start working for Simba?”

  He couldn’t answer, the pain too great. Tipaldi slapped him lucid. “Two years ago,” he croaked.

  “Why?”

  Again he couldn’t answer. Tipaldi slipped him a needleful of morphine. I waited a few, until he started getting happy. “Why did you start working for Simba?” I repeated.

  “He paid well.”

  “What did he want from you?”

  “He wanted somebody high up in Bandur’s outfit to pass him information on what we were doing. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a traitor or nothing, but the money was good. Besides, I was hired by Papa Bandur, not that pussy kid of his.”

  “What other kinds of work did you do for Simba?”

  Mdoba went into a coughing fit. His belly rolled with every hack. After a glass of water, he was talking again. “I was helping him get his shipping company going. Shit, it was a sweet deal, Juno. He has some bitch on the Orbital that buys up people, ships ’em to the mines.”

  “What kind of people?”

  Mdoba had entered a morphine euphoria. His words were coming out fluidly now. “All kinds. It don’t matter. Kids are good, because they’re easy to kidnap. Some people even sell their kids cheap.”

  “What happens to them?”

  “They send ’em to the mines. From what I hear, the ship captains keep the pretty ones for themselves. You ever heard of a harem? They used to have ’em on Earth. They knew what they was doing back then. A harem’s when you got all these women and they do whatever you say; they have to please you. You know what I’m saying? Beat ’em, rape ’em—whatever you want.”

  “YOU DON’T TREAT WOMEN LIKE THAT!” My piece was in his mouth.

  Mdoba ranted garbled pleadings, begging mercy.

  Tipaldi and Sasaki didn’t move to stop me. Maggie said, “Juno.”

  My hand tremor spread over my entire body. Sweaty shivers ran up and down. My face burned red. I pulled my piece free, revealing a newly chipped tooth in Mdoba’s blubbering mouth. I stepped outside and sucked early evening air. My muscles adrenaline-twitched. I struggled to calm my out-of-control thoughts.

  Maggie stayed next to me with a look of pity on her face. I’d spent a lifetime proving I wasn’t weak by exacting brutality in abundance, and in the end, I came off pitiful. I gave her my weapon and headed back in.

  Mdoba was as calm as could be expected. Sasaki had moved to the stove to prepare tea. Tipaldi was nursing his bruised knuckles with ice from the freezer.

  I took a place on the far side of the kitchen—safely out of throttling distance from Mdoba. I concentrated on self-control. “What do they do with the rest of the slaves?”

  Mdoba answered, “They make ’em work.”

  “Don’t they have robots to do the mining?”

  “They need people to run the robots. The more people, the more machines they can run. They don’t need just miners, though. They need people to grow food and shit, same as here.”

  “Why can’t they hire labor? Twenty percent of Lagarto is looking for work.”

  “This way’s cheaper. Why pay for something when you can get it for free?”

  “Aren’t they afraid of getting caught?”

  Mdoba’s speech was getting labored. “Who’s going to catch them? Even if somebody found out, it would take years for the message to get to Earth or anybody else that can do anything about it. By the time they send somebody out here to investigate, twenty or thirty years go by.”

  “How were you helping Simba get started?”

  Mdoba turned to Tipaldi. “More. I need more.”

  Tipaldi administered a morphine booster. Mdoba instantly became more relaxed.

  I started back in. “How were you helping Simba?”

  “He told me how he wanted his own ship. I thought he was crazy. I don’t know how he did it, but he bought a fucking ship. I’d like to see Bandur pull that off. Maybe Papa coulda done it. I seen that man do some amazing shit, but the kid ain’t got it in him.”

  “Simba needed approval from the city.”

  “That’s right. He wanted me to handle it. He needed somebody that knew Koba. It was a test. You know, to see how I did. If it went well, he was going to see about putting me in charge of Bandur’s operations when he took them over.”

  “So you took vids of board members.”

  “You know about those? Yeah, it was easy. Everybody’s got s
omething they don’t want people knowing about. I took vids and used them to get the board to vote the way Simba wanted.”

  The questions were ticking off my tongue in a strictly professional manner. “What about Peter Vlotsky?”

  “I caught that prick screwing hookers, but he didn’t care. It took me a while to figure out that he was getting paid by an offworld shipping company to kill Simba’s business proposal dead. I needed him. He was the fucking chairman. Without his okay there was nothing we could do. He’s got some kind of veto power.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Simba gave me the go-ahead to play it rough with Vlotsky. Simba said he couldn’t compete with offworld money, so he said we’d have to use intimidation to get what we wanted.”

  “You went after his family.”

  “Right. I’d already done my homework on the family. I told him about how Vlotsky had a wife and a son, but the problem with his son was that he was in the Army. How do you whack a guy in the Army? He’s surrounded by guys with guns. So Simba told me to go for the wife, but I told him that if Vlotsky doesn’t care about his wife seeing him fucking another woman then he probably won’t care if we kill her either. We’d be doing the guy a fucking favor.”

  “So what did you decide to do?”

  “When I mentioned that Vlotsky’s kid was stationed at the base upriver, he told me he knew somebody stationed there.”

  “Jhuko Kapasi.”

  “You know about him, too? What the fuck are you asking me all these questions for?”

  Pieces were coming into focus. “Go on.”

  He looked at Tipaldi, not needing to ask. Tipaldi gave him another mini-injection. Mdoba looked at his wrecked hands then closed his eyes. “I checked out this Kapasi. He was a hustler—got sent up to the Zoo for a gambling deal that went bad. He got early release from prison and was sent into the Army. It turned out he was in Vlotsky’s unit.”

  “How did Simba know Kapasi?”

  “He told me that Kapasi sold him some POWs—farmers that brought a good price when he sold them to the mines.”

  “What about Kapasi’s sister? Did he sell her to Simba?”