Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Grayson Kendrick?”

  He nodded.

  David stiffened. “Is he here?”

  Dorian looked him over. “SPR-42, less than ten feet away. Probably two shots.” He circled behind him. “Fuzz in the exit wounds, probably got it while sitting in a nice, expensive chair.”

  Grayson grumbled, rotating after Dorian. “I was not expecting a ghost cop. I want to report a murder.”

  Dorian smiled at Kirsten. “He wants to report a murder.”

  “Which murder would that be, Grayson? The one you ordered on Vikram, the murder of your hit squad, or the revenge killing that claimed you?”

  Grayson glared at her. “There’s no need to be so hostile.”

  “Did it even bother you when your squad got wiped out?”

  He fidgeted.

  “I thought not. You were more concerned with the stolen data than their lives. That’s probably why they came back to kill you.” She scowled at him. “They’re still a threat I need to take care of. What can you tell me about this whole mess?”

  Grayson glanced at Mr. Ling, who remained happily outside the conversation. Kirsten turned away so as not to giggle at Dorian’s eye peering at her through one of the bullet trenches.

  “Vikram stole some of our data. I sent the team in to recover it and teach him a lesson. I am not being deceitful when I say I did not order his death. I don’t know what happened that night, missy.”

  “Watch your tone. You call me Agent Wren, or possibly Kirsten, if you can stop being a puffed-up ass for five minutes.”

  Dorian snickered into his hand.

  Mr. Ling could not help but mirror it. “Kendrick always was a bit over the top; SVP attitude, Director’s chair.”

  Grayson frowned at him. “Will you tell him to kiss my ass?”

  “He wants you to kiss his ass,” quipped Dorian.

  “Oh, that’s cute. He can’t hear you, either.” Grayson grumbled.

  “What do I need to know about the team?” Kirsten stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Mr. Ling.

  “Seneschal was their squad leader. A consummate professional, he did a lot of work for various European firms before we acquired him due to his exemplary record.”

  “I suspect that means he could kill without hesitation, obeyed orders without question, and never got caught.” Dorian leaned on the desk.

  Grayson scowled.

  Kirsten smirked. “It’s a bit late for corporate obliqueness, Grayson. You’re dead.”

  “Fine. We recruited Dalton Chen for his ability to get done what needed to get done. He was loyal to his contract. As soon as he signed a new one, previous employers were no different than any other potential adversary. He had no family, no attachments, no hesitation.”

  Dorian laughed. “Sounds like a nice guy.”

  “He was not fond of sloppiness, and rather frowned on Mariko for enjoying her work so much.”

  “She enjoyed killing?” Kirsten thought back to the shadowed face, the glowing red eyes, and that look of pure glee as she caused pain.

  “Yes, especially men. I only glanced at Michael’s report in brief, but I remember something about her indentured to a Japanese Keiretsu from a young age. She was not treated well, I believe. Dalton was in Japan on an extraction run and she attempted to interfere. Michael, rather Icarus, let his conscience burden him into feeling bad for her. They wound up stealing her as well as extracting the defecting technician. Took a few weeks, but we eventually broke her conditioned loyalty to Nippon Shōgyō Kumiai.”

  Kirsten scrunched her face. “The NSK isn’t a corporation. Why would they care about an extraction?”

  “They are a facilitator allowing the fragmented, warring prefectures within Japan to continue to trade with the outside world and keep their internal battles hidden. As such, they maintain a security force available to any corporate entity for assistance, especially with outsiders. Mariko was one of their ninja.”

  “Ninja?” Kirsten sighed. “I’ve never seen one; I’ll have to hope that the stories about them are pretty much exaggerated.”

  “Most people think of ghosts the same way, do they not?”

  Greyson had a point.

  “This is the opening of a bad joke,” added Dorian. “A mercenary, a ninja, and a Special Forces dude walk into a bar…”

  “Stop.” She held a hand up. “What about Icarus?”

  “He used to be UCF military. His records were sealed, even from us. When he came looking for work, he claimed experience in clandestine operations, mostly wetwork. He was one of those best of the best types; very motivated, very physical. Health food… quinoa, wheat germ, blenders full of green ooze, his office always stank like moldy shoes.”

  “It seems as if you have your work cut out…” Dorian muttered.

  Kirsten shifted, gazing through the glass wall at four office-worker ghosts watching the inspection of their murder scene. “Yeah, you got that right.”

  irsten slouched back in the chair, too tired to even put her feet up on the desk. Evan slurped noodles out of a take-out container, making silly faces. Giggling, she stuffed another forkful of mei fun into her mouth, glancing at Captain Eze’s empty office. He asked me to meet him, the least he could do is show the hell up.

  “How come you’re here so late? You got homework?” Evan tilted his head.

  She smiled. “Don’t rush to grow up, hon. This job is nothing but homework.”

  Kirsten’s smile faltered to a flat line as she stabbed her food. He’s an astral, too. They’re gonna put him out on the street with me someday. Kirsten forced the smile’s return as worry crept into his eyes. No, they wouldn’t do that. Too awkward to have a mother/son team. They don’t even let siblings pair together. Evan’s eyes crossed as he tried to watch a noodle slide through his puckered lips. Kirsten laughed, deciding not to worry about ten years from now.

  Light split through the room from the far end of the hallway that led to motor pool, outlining Eze’s figure in a nimbus of glowing orange. The door closed, letting color and detail fill in on his face and uniform. He went by at a brisk stride, apparently not over the embarrassment of the shower call earlier in the day. Kirsten scooted forward, two quick forkfuls shoved into her mouth as she got up.

  She mumbled useless sounds through it, grumbled, and swallowed. “Okay, almost time to go home. Get started on your homework; this should not be long.”

  Evan nodded, digging through his backpack for a school-issued datapad. Kirsten stretched to the point her body trembled, then sagged forward. After a deep breath, she summoned up the strength to trudge across the squad room to Eze’s office.

  “Sorry, sir. Evan just meant well, he didn’t―”

  “It’s all right, Wren.” He turned to face her, looking a touch haggard. “I just got out of a meeting with Division 9. They wanted to ask about the death of Sergeant Marsh, and the investigation into the man responsible. Do you have any idea why they seemed to think I might have some information we were not sharing with them?”

  Dorian faded through the wall, looking interested.

  “Bastards walked in on me at the hospital.” She blushed.

  “When I became aware of that, I conveyed our mutual displeasure.” Captain Eze sat down. “I would have been back here half an hour ago if not for the argument it caused.”

  “Let me guess, they accused you of coddling women without military experience.”

  “Something like that. They do not understand the unique position some of you are in, growing up here…” Eze rubbed his face, as if trying to wipe away the distrust of others.

  She matched his smile, fatigue and all. “I escorted the victims at Lyris across. Only one left, has some stuff she needs to tell her brother before she’s willing to step through.”

  Eze nodded. “What interest do you have in Sergeant Marsh? I noticed you were picking through his things a few weeks ago, and you paid a visit to his partner a few days ago. Did you really send in a form referring her to see Com
mander Ashford?”

  “Yes. Rene Bollard, sir. He is the suggestive that killed Dorian. He put something in Nila’s head.” She continued, explaining how he programmed Nila to fear the police, as well as used her to facilitate his escape. “I was hoping Commander Ashford could dig a bit deeper and find out where she took him, and make sure I didn’t miss cleaning anything up.”

  “You think you missed something?” Eze lifted an eyebrow.

  “She called Rene to warn him after I left, after I deprogrammed her. He had to have buried it way down in the subconscious. Maybe all she did was start a vid to his NetMini without saying a word. The Sons of Charon came after me because of that call, I’m sure of it. Rene knows I want him, and I’m not planning to disappoint the son of a bitch.”

  Captain Eze’s glance hardened. “It is admirable you take offense to the murder of one of our own, even though you never knew him, but I am concerned. You don’t have the combat experience or tactical training―”

  “Captain, sorry to interrupt, but no one else is going after him. I’ve got a rating in suggestion; I can fight him.”

  His glower softened to a patronizing smile. “Kirsten, your rating in suggestion is far short of what we believe Rene capable of. You’re not even on the watch list.” He chuckled. “Rene held six men in thrall for months, a small private army.”

  “Rene is going to attack Nila again. He’s sending assassins after me. He’ll do anything to get away from us, and I owe it to Dorian to…”

  “Avenge him?” Eze sighed. “Revenge is a bumpy road, Kirsten.”

  The chill presence of Dorian’s hand circled around hers. “Don’t get yourself killed because of me.”

  Kirsten looked at Dorian, too angry to cry like she wanted. “I’m not so smitten I’m ready to die just to be with you.”

  They both laughed despite the mood.

  “Are you…” Eze’s head leaned to the side, at empty air.

  “Dorian is still here, sir, right in the room with us. He’s restless because Rene got away and he’s worried about Officer Assad.”

  “You’ll not be rid of me so easy,” said Dorian with a wink. “I’m not going to leave you alone, even if you do get Rene.”

  She grinned. “I’m not trying to get rid of you; I just want to do what is right.”

  “Okay, Kirsten. Perhaps you have been working too…”

  The lights flickered. Eze’s voice trailed off as he glanced at faltering LED bulbs in the ceiling. They dimmed even further before fading out to darkness. Officer Morelli trudged through the door, nose buried in a datapad of reports in hand. Just then, a coalescence of white fog hung in space, and Dorian stepped out of it; intensity upon his face as if manifesting was an act of extreme effort.

  To Kirsten, the real-looking Dorian faded to transparency.

  Morelli’s datapad hit the ground with a clack; he shrieked like a cheerleader and ran in such a panic he tumbled over a desk outside. Evan’s wild cackling was too much for Kirsten, and she joined him in laughter. Eze’s other eyebrow rose to meet the one that had gone upward at the fog. He looked Dorian up and down, and stood up, rendering a funerary salute.

  “You’re getting stronger…” Kirsten gawked at him.

  Dorian returned the salute. “I’m still with the team, sir.” His voice seemed to float in from the edges of the room, from no specific direction.

  Speaking caused the manifestation to evaporate; the effort, a breath held to the point of bursting. Solid again in her eyes, Dorian slumped into a chair looking winded.

  The lights fluttered back to life. In the distance, aluminum desks banged as Morelli scrambled back to his feet and wailed off down the hallway.

  “Tom never did like me.” Dorian glanced after him.

  Kirsten giggled. “Well you were his T.O.; your comment about him being a hothead kept him in training for an extra three months.”

  “He was. Still is.” Dorian folded his arms. “Trying to chase a suspect through a crowded hover lane at 285.”

  “Is that why you put the patrol craft through a window?”

  Dorian cringed. “No, he did that trying to fight me for control. All I wanted to do was slow down to 250.”

  “Well you’ve probably just sent him to psych for at least a week.”

  Eyebrows fluttering, Dorian leaned back and put a hand on his chin. The thought did not seem to plague his conscience at all.

  Captain Eze lowered himself into his chair, pondering, showing no outward affect from seeing Dorian. He nodded once, at something in his head. “So that’s what you meant when you said he died before you met him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Kirsten, please. Be careful poking around Rene. Suggestives can be extraordinarily dangerous once they get to his level.”

  “Understood, sir.” She got up to leave. “Did you get a whiff of anything from Nine? Think they’ll find him?”

  “If they have anything, they aren’t sharing. You think you need another protection detail?”

  “Tell him I got it. Just take the car home.” Dorian smiled.

  “I think I’ll be okay. Rene doesn’t have the resources of a corporation behind him, and I got a partner who doesn’t sleep.”

  he patrol craft came in low over traffic, four or five feet above cars that had skewed into collisions with posts, vendomats, and parked vehicles. Kirsten drifted along just past a jogger’s pace, studying broken glass, skid marks, and blood.

  On the primary windscreen, the computer inserted neon lines of green and yellow resolving the flight path of bullets it extrapolated to be responsible for several holes in the surrounding environment. The results of her scan corroborated the witness accounts of the unbelievable. Two cars, driverless, had raced down the street. Citizens heard gunshots and got showered with debris, but saw no guns―or people using them.

  The citycam recording, open in a side panel display, showed the chase from an elevated view. A small green car weaved through traffic, empty, and sometimes using the sidewalks to get around logjams and red lights.

  Behind it, an ordinary mid-sized passenger sedan fought its way through a river of cars, frantic to get away from the gunfire. Like the people, the citywide surveillance network had picked up the sound of automatic weapons fire. Commuters crashed into anything they could to get away as the backs of their cars disintegrated amid a hail of unseen bullets. She wondered if any of them even noticed at the time what shot at them.

  According to the map, the chase had persisted a little over seven miles. She accelerated and climbed. Six miles later, the smoldering ruin of the sedan melted into the street. The Division 1 patrol craft that had lasered it in half was parked nearby. She slowed to a floating halt before dropping into a vertical landing next to the officers.

  “Morning. Got anything on the car?”

  They both saluted. A short woman with skin the color of creamed coffee lifted a gold-tinted visor. Early morning sunlight streaked parts of her blue armor with white glare as she moved up to the window. “It was reported stolen by its owner, but they had no description of the thief. We arrived on scene during the roving gunfight, the car ignored three warnings, so we hit it with the Starburst.”

  Kirsten eyed the bulge on the roof of their car, just behind the passenger seat. “Nice shot, Sergeant, right in half.”

  “I was driving; Simms took the shot.”

  The other officer nodded.

  “We found no one in it, but the car smelled of propellant. Someone was definitely firing weapons inside it. I have no idea how the hell we missed them, or how the frick they got away from this without being injured.”

  “Uhh, Sarge?” Simms looked up from a datapad. “I’m going back over the scanner recordings during the pursuit.”

  Both women looked at him with expectant faces.

  “The car was empty the whole time.” He scratched his helmet. “Think a hacker got into the Navcomp?”

  “I could answer that for you, but I don’t want you to take up heavy
drinking.” Kirsten smiled.

  “Hit me.” Sergeant Summers radiated confidence.

  “Ghosts.”

  To Kirsten’s surprise, the patrol sergeant did not seem rattled or even look at her as if she was crazy. “Ghosts?” She shook her head. “You don’t think it was a hacker?”

  “Unless he could hack the stink of ballistic propellant into the car.”

  Officer Simms went quietly back to his car.

  Sgt. Summers pondered, and nodded. “That’s a good point. Well, go do what you Zeroes do then.” Sergeant Summers smiled as she looked off into space while the buzz of radio chatter filled her helmet.

  A rush of camaraderie washed over Kirsten, and she returned the smile. It was amazing to feel like part of a team and not some freak on the outside.

  “Agent. We’re getting reports of gunfire at Prospect Mall, just down the street where the other car crashed, they’re asking for you.”

  “Crap, they’re still here. Sergeant, have them evac the mall.”

  “Already―”

  Kirsten twisted the sticks and accelerated, staying on the ground. The mall was only a few blocks away and Division 1 had it blocked off from traffic. It would take longer to transition between hover and ground mode than just drive, so she just gunned it. After weaving through the debris left in the wake of the chase, she hung a squealing left turn onto the approach ramp for Prospect Mall. Black streaks on the charcoal-hued traction coating led over the incline, stopped abruptly at the top, and resumed about twenty feet later. Ahead, the tiny green car lay in a crumpled, smoking ruin; smashed into the shopping plaza wall at the end of the squiggly trails.

  Two dozen patrol officers milled around a row of blue-and-white patrol craft; the entire area was aglow with shimmering bar lights. A sizeable crowd, perhaps a hundred and a half people, pressed into the police line with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Kirsten squawked the siren, parting the crowd, and pulled up to the barricade.

  As soon as her door opened, gunfire erupted inside.