Man of Steele

by Alex P. Berg

“It’s your damn precinct. You tell me.”

  “Again, different chains of command. I shouldn’t have to keep explaining this.”

  The anger continued to brew, bubbling inside me like a pot over a stove ready to spill. “Are you even going to look at me?”

  Scribble, scribble. “I’m perfectly capable of multitasking.”

  Quinto’s deep, stern voice cut the air. “Hunt…”

  The man finally looked up. He sighed and set his pen to the side. “I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath, forcing down the emotions inside. “Are you aware of what’s gone on since last night?”

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Come on, Hunt,” said Rodgers, his tone no more pleasant than mine or Quinto’s. “Daggers got attacked. Two thugs tried to kill him. Now Detective Steele’s missing. You can’t tell me you managed to avoid mention of either of those things?”

  Hunt crossed his arms. “It’s my job to maintain a level of impartiality between my investigations and yours. So no, I didn’t.” He glanced at me. “Sorry to hear about it.”

  “Sorry to hear…?” My teeth squeaked as they ground together. I’d nearly been murdered, Steele was missing, and that was the best he could do?

  “Look,” said Hunt. “Is there a reason you’re in my office?”

  Quinto must’ve noticed the look on my face, because he answered quickly. “Potential corruption at multiple prisons, one municipal and one federal. We were at Coldgate earlier today on one of Daggers’ hunches, following a dangerous prisoner by the name of Bonesaw. We have reason to believe he escaped with the help of prison personnel both at Coldgate and Stinking Baths.”

  Hunt’s gaze narrowed. “You have any proof?”

  Quinto gave me a nod. “Daggers.”

  I ripped the letters from my jacket and tossed them on the desk. “Bonesaw faked his transfer paperwork, or at least the letter confirming his delivery to Stinking Baths.”

  “Thanks. I’ll look into it.” Hunt picked up his pen and nodded, as if to shoo us.

  “Excuse me?” I said.

  He glanced up again. “I said I’ll look into it.”

  I took a step forward, feeling the frothing anger creeping up my throat. “Maybe you don’t understand what’s going on, Hunt. Bonesaw is out of prison. Chances are he’s the one who sent people after me. I almost died. Now my partner is missing. You think that’s a coincidence?”

  “I have no idea,” Hunt said, “but it’s also not my place to investigate it. As I’ve made clear several times, my role is internal affairs, which is why I will be looking into these corruption allegations you’ve brought before me in good time.”

  “In good time?” I whipped my arm forward, slapping the pen from Hunt’s hand. “Do you think this is a gods-damned game, Hunt? My partner’s out there!”

  “How dare you.” Hunt shot out of his seat, a scowl stretching his face. “You—”

  I’m not sure when my hands shot forward, but the next thing I knew I was latched onto the front of Hunt’s shirt, and he was grappling me right back over his desk. Hunt grunted and cursed, and I realized I was screaming.

  “Gods damnit, that’s my partner! Shay! She’s out there! Do you hear me!”

  A shadow drenched me. Quinto enveloped me in his arms, ripping me off Hunt and bear-hugging me all the way to the back of the office. Hunt’s angry shouts trailed me. Rodgers swooped into the path between us as Quinto shouldered the door open.

  He kicked it shut behind him as he released me outside Hunt’s office. His gray skin had adopted a distinctly crimson glow. “Holy hell, Daggers! What in the world is wrong with you?”

  My face radiated heat, and my heart raced. I felt dizzy and short of breath. “Shay is gone, Quinto! We need to find her now. NOW. And that asshole in there… I mean, are you serious? What’s wrong with me?”

  Quinto stepped into my personal space, looming over me despite my considerable height. “Daggers, we’re all aware of the situation. I may not understand what you’re going through right now, but I can take a guess. That’s still no excuse. You need to get a grip. Rodgers and I have been trying to let you run this show, but you’ve been sullen, distracted, and uncooperative ever since Steele went missing. We’re all on the same team here. Those letters may just be one avenue toward Bonesaw, but if you piss Hunt off and get us all reported, how it that going to help Steele? You think the Captain’s going to leave you on the case if she sees you like this? You want to help find Shay, right?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “No buts,” said Quinto. “Get a hold of yourself, now, or you won’t have to wait for Hunt to ask the Captain to suspend you. I’ll ask her myself.”

  He shook his head and stepped back into Hunt’s office, closing the door behind him. Through the office walls, I could hear Hunt and Rodgers going at it verbally. Quinto added his voice to the fray, booming but reasonable, as was his method.

  I stood there a moment, seething, my muscles twitching, my fists and jaw equally clenched. I wanted to burst back into Hunt’s office, to tackle him and rain punches into his face, at him, at Quinto, at anyone. It didn’t matter who, at this point. I needed to lash out. To vent the violent energy coursing through my veins and pounding through my head. I needed to hurt someone, preferably not one of my friends or any of my coworkers if I valued my career prospects.

  Without thinking I turned and headed to the stairs, taking them three at a time. A few officers passed me in a blur, some of them probably nodding their heads or saying hello, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t hear them as I stormed to the basement, headed down the hall, and burst into the station’s modest gymnasium. My jacket flew to the floor as I made a beeline for the standing bag in the corner.

  I cut loose with a roar as I slammed a fist into the bag’s leather exterior, a savage punch with the entire weight of my body behind it. First a right, then a left, each of them hard enough to send a ripple down the offending arm, then another and another. I hopped on the balls of my feet as I slammed my fists into the bag over and over, using my leg drive for maximum effect. The chain holding the bag screeched and squealed, the entire harness holding it up shaking, but I drowned out its complaints with my own. I grunted with each of my attacks. Sweat beaded on my brow and my breath quickened, but I kept on punching, kept going faster, harder. My grunts turned into yells as I envisioned Bonesaw’s face on the bag. I refocused on that spot, punching it over and over and over, beating his face into a battered pulp. A bloody mass that existed only in my head.

  I’m not sure how long I kept it up. Maybe a minute, two at most, but it was enough. When I stepped back, it was with legs and arms shaking, chest burning, sweat pouring off my face, and breath rasping through my throat in ragged gasps. I bent over, holding my knees for support, but I wasn’t getting enough air doubled over, so I gave up and lay on my back, stretching my arms overhead as I closed my eyes.

  Shay waited for me behind them, smiling at me through the back of my eyelids. She laughed, her eyes sparkling, and I half-expected her to chide me with some witty barb. She didn’t, though. She just stayed with me while I sucked air into my screaming lungs.

  I’d find her. She was smart. She was strong. She was in trouble, but she’d make it. I had to believe that. There wasn’t any future where she wouldn’t break through. She’d punch her way through all comers, through Bonesaw’s belly back to the land of the living if she had to, just as I would. To get back to her.

  “Detective Daggers?”

  21

  I cracked my eyes open. Another detective stood over me, but only barely. He was a dwarf and short for one at that. He looked concerned.

  “Hey, Lamont,” I said, still sucking air down like it was going out of style. “What brings you down here?”

  “Exercise, same as you,” he said. “You know we have gloves, right?”

  “Gloves?”

  He pointed at one of the
cubbies along the far was. “You know. For boxing? Keeps the pressure off your knuckles.”

  I sat up and rested against the nearest wall. “Right. I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

  Lamont lifted an eyebrow. “You feeling alright? You know, Rodgers and Quinto came by my desk this morning. Told me about yesterday, and then I heard about your partner…”

  I swallowed back a lump, or maybe just a thickened glob of saliva. Hard to tell which following my burst of activity. “I’ve been better, but I appreciate your concern. More than some have offered.”

  Lamont snorted. “You serious? I didn’t offer much.”

  I gave him a look. “Hunt.”

  Lamont’s face hardened. “Oh. That asshole. Don’t pay him any mind. I’m not sure he’s filled with the same organs as the rest of us.”

  “I know, right? Nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  Lamont nodded. “Take care of yourself, Daggers. Let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand before he could leave. “Give me an update.”

  “On what?”

  “The gang situation. That’s what Quinto and Rodgers came to talk to you about, right?”

  “Sure,” said Lamont. “They neglected to relate what they learned? I swear, ever since Quinto started dating that coroner, his mind’s been a little foggy. Not that I blame him.”

  I wiped sweat off my brow and waved him off. “No, they told me, but it wasn’t much. Said you weren’t familiar with the tattoos we found on the pricks that tried to whack me. Also said you hadn’t heard any rumblings about new gangs, but that you weren’t totally sure about that last part.”

  “Sounds like they covered the bases, then.”

  I’d recovered enough to stand, but I wasn’t in any hurry. Lamont was so short it might’ve seemed like a slight if I rushed into it. “Come on, Lamont. There has to be more. Something else you can tell me. Something to get us on the right track. I have reason to believe Steele’s in serious danger.”

  “Look, Daggers, it’s not like I’m holding out on you. The idea of some upstart gang coming after our own pisses me off as much as it does you.” Lamont glanced at the punching bag. “Well…close, anyway. The point is, I don’t have any proof to back up my suspicions. Do I suspect there’s something brewing underneath the city? Sure. Things have been too quiet for weeks. Now a pair of thugs try to kill you? And you say Steele going missing is tied to that? It’s too organized to be the work of a few malcontents and lowlifes.”

  Too organized… Somehow that struck a chord with me. I hadn’t given it much thought until now, but how had Bonesaw, or whoever it was who’d abducted Steele, known where and when to go after her? It wasn’t a secret among her friends and family that she was going to attend her brother’s graduation ceremony, but it wasn’t exactly knowledge someone on the street would have. It would take a certain amount of planning for someone to take her, what with the chemical spill and all. Even the attack on me last night hadn’t been slapdash. I’d been followed, probably all the way from Steele’s apartment. Who’d organized that? Bonesaw? He’d been in prison until recently. Obviously he’d had help getting out…

  “Daggers?”

  I blinked and looked up.

  “You sure you’re okay?” asked Lamont.

  “How common is it?” I asked.

  “How common is what?”

  “This whole silence on the ground thing,” I said. “The gangs taking a bit of a breather. When has that happened before?”

  “Fairly often, I suppose,” said Lamont. “Happens now and then in the winter if we have a prolonged stretch of bad weather. Sounds stupid, but it’s true. Even criminals hate the cold. Happens for a day when there’s a big sporting event. But when you’re looking at several weeks, it’s usually due to a power vacuum.”

  “You saying one of the local gang leaders might’ve bit the dust?”

  “Possible,” said Lamont, “but again, I haven’t heard anything. If so, it means we might be in for something big. Power vacuums only last until someone realizes they have the strength to make a move.”

  “And when was the last time that happened?” I said. “When we took down the Wyverns?”

  “You mean the bust that took Captain Armstrong down with it?” Lamont shook his head. “The Wyverns weren’t powerful enough at the time. We didn’t even know they were back. The first time, a couple decades ago, when they went down—that spawned a crapstorm that lasted months.”

  I sucked on my teeth and nodded.

  “Daggers, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s this have to do with you and Steele? Don’t get me wrong, there’s often overlap between gang and homicide, but not that much. Who did you two piss off?”

  I stood, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Lamont. But I’m starting to think I need to give that more thought.”

  I gave the guy a wave and headed toward the gym door, grabbing my jacket along the way. As I headed up the stairs from the basement, I found Rodgers and Quinto on their way down from the top. Neither of them looked any cheerier than when I’d left them.

  “Hey, guys,” I said. “You, ah…smoothed things over with Hunt?”

  “More or less,” said Quinto. “Would’ve been easier if you hadn’t laid hands on him. I mean, seriously. I know you’re on edge, Daggers, but—”

  “I know. I get it. I was out of line, and I’m sorry. Not so much to Hunt. He’s a prick, but I am sorry for you two. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. And I won’t again. You were right, Quinto. We have too much work to do. I can’t be screwing around, letting my temper get the best of me. Shay helped me shelve it, and I’m sure as hell not going to let it get loose and trash my life at the worst moment possible.”

  Rodgers peered at me quizzically. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? Because I’m acting rationally for once? I’m telling you, I’ve got my anger under control. Won’t happened again.”

  “It’s not that,” said Rodgers. “It’s that you’re flushed. And sweating. Did you go for a jog?”

  “Close enough,” I said. “It’s not important. What’s important is we stay focused. Productive. Once I found out Bonesaw’d sprung himself loose, I got caught up in the how. That’s my fault. It was the anger talking, narrowing my focus, but following that loose thread isn’t going to get us anywhere, certainly not fast enough for it to make a difference. Let Hunt deal with it.”

  “So what is important, then?” asked Quinto.

  “The crime scenes. My place and the site of Steele’s disappearance. There are still plenty of pieces of evidence that don’t add up. Take my apartment, for example. When I went back there earlier today, I noticed numerous scratches in the floorboards. Deep gouges, both inside my apartment and in the hall outside.”

  “Scratches?” said Rodgers. “From your fight?”

  “Inside, maybe,” I said. “But I found them in the hallway, too, where I didn’t battle anyone. You guys know as well as I do that unexplained oddities often have logical explanations behind them. And we’ve talked about Biggie’s mysteriously rapid demise and subsequent stiffening. That’s another element that doesn’t make any sense. Drugs don’t seem to explain it. So what caused him to die so quickly and his body to lock up?”

  “I don’t know, Daggers,” said Quinto. “But so far, his bizarre death hasn’t provided any leads, and it’s not likely to until Cairny gets the results of her tox screen back. The CSU teams have already gone over your place with a fine-toothed comb. Your apartment is a dead end.”

  I chewed on my lip. “Right. Which means we should head back to the site of the chemical spill.”

  Quinto tilted his head. “You sure? Captain’s already got a dozen officers there, and you’ve searched the place yourself. What do you expect to find?”

  “The officers at the scene don’t k
now Bonesaw is involved. We do.” I dug his likeness out of my jacket, the one Boatreng had drawn upon the tattoo artist’s description.

  “Good point,” said Rodgers. “We could show his picture around. Might be able to get some leads.”

  “I thought you said Bonesaw was unimportant,” said Quinto.

  “I said figuring out how he broke free from prison is unimportant,” I said. “Finding him is anything but. All signs point to him being the beating heart at the center of this.”

  “That may be true,” said Quinto, “but even if Bonesaw if behind this, there’s no reason for us to believe he personally executed Steele’s abduction. He didn’t try to kill you himself last night, Daggers. We might pound the pavement and get nothing for our troubles. Tracking those chemicals from the spill on the other hand…”

  “We’re in a time crunch, Quinto,” I said. “If we can find Bonesaw, we’ll find Steele. Trust me. It’s worth taking a shot at him directly.”

  Quinto put a hand to my shoulder. “Daggers, I know you think if you find Bonesaw you’ll find Steele, but you don’t know that for a fact. I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but what if he’s only tangentially involved? Yes, he had the same gang tattoo your attackers did. Probably, if we can believe the tattoo artist you talked to. But you can’t focus on him to the exclusion of every other clue we have at our disposal.”

  The big guy had a point. I assumed Bonesaw was behind everything, but I didn’t know for sure. It was the same thing I’d told myself minutes ago in the gym.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll make it quick at the spill. Keep the radius of our net tight as we show the picture around. We’ll hit the chemical companies next. Fair enough?”

  My two detective pals nodded their agreement. I tossed my jacket over my shoulder, still too hot to put it back on. “Alright, then. Time to get to work.”

  22

  I wish I could say Quinto’s concerns were unfounded, but the big guy proved to be more prescient than me. Officers swarmed over 7th Street a block in either direction of the spill, most of them looking as nasty and disgruntled as I felt. They combed through the alleys, noses to the ground, doing their best detective impersonations as they looked for hair and bone fragments or whatever it is they thought us real detectives based our judgments on. They’d gathered bystanders into groups, asking them questions and showing images of the thugs who’d attacked me—which apparently Boatreng had scribbled together multiple copies of, the threat of carpal tunnel be damned.