Acts of Violence

by Ross Harrison

  Between the two, a third man stepped out of the flyer. This one wore a suit. Wore it like he was born in it. In his mouth was a thick cigar. It looked out of place. He seemed too young to smoke something like that. Didn’t fit an agent either. Maybe he was taking advantage of being so far away from his bosses on Orion. Felt like he could quietly strike out at the strict regulations of his agency. Or maybe he just liked big cigars that didn’t suit him. Either way, it was quickly extinguished by the rain.

  ‘Jack Mason,’ he said. He stepped towards me. The two agents kept pace behind.

  ‘Jack? I think I saw him going that way.’ I jerked my thumb over my shoulder.

  ‘My name is Agent Nathaniel DeMartino. I need you to come with me.’

  ‘Kind of you to offer, but I like walking.’

  DeMartino smiled a humourless smile and turned aside to allow me a straight path to the flyer. No point trying to outrun a flyer. No point trying to outrun a plasma rifle. Nothing I could do but comply. At least Webster’s men wouldn’t get me now.

  One of the armed agents patted me down. Took the gun. Left the cigarettes. I stepped past DeMartino and towards the shiny white flyer. There was a rubber loop just inside the door. I pulled myself in. There was space for perhaps ten people inside. The cockpit was separated by a solid wall.

  ‘Have a seat, Mr. Mason,’ DeMartino said beside my ear.

  I stepped to the far side and sat in the middle of the five seats. The moulded plastic sank half an inch under me. It was probably comfortable, but I was drenched through. No level of comfort would override that feeling.

  As soon as the two armoured agents were onboard, the flyer jerked. I felt vertical acceleration in my stomach. Through the closing door, the road disappeared into the wet grey. I’d left the lighter behind.

  DeMartino sat opposite me. He watched me. Didn’t take his eyes off me for a second. I watched him back. He must have been a junior agent. They wouldn’t have sent a senior agent out to this rock just to look for me. He was too young, anyway. Late twenties. His suit was too nice to be agency issue. And he was too comfortable in it. He was from money. Maybe his family bought his way up the food chain. The agency sent him out here to make him feel like a proper agent. I felt a lot better about my odds. If I was left alone with him, that was. The other two pairs of eyes locked on me belonged to experienced men. Men who could probably put one of those plasma bolts through my eye from half a mile away.

  ‘You’re a long way from the city, Mr. Mason,’ DeMartino said at last. ‘Let me guess: you thought it was nice weather for a stroll?’

  That was just what I was about to say. Admittedly, my wit wasn’t what it could be, but I didn’t like it being taken away from me like that.

  ‘I’m surprised that you’re all alone. Did your friends have somewhere to be? Someone else to break out of police custody?’

  ‘Is that what friends do these days? Knock you unconscious, make you a fugitive, and then try to drown you?’

  ‘I think that depends on the level of alcohol involved. Sounds like an average stag night.’

  He lit the cigar again, with some trouble.

  *

  It wasn’t long before the flyer was slowing to a stop. It lowered so slowly that I didn’t feel anything until it bumped on the ground. The nerves came back. I needed a bathroom too.

  The side door slid open again to reveal a familiar scene. Three cops stood in a line from the big metal door. The first of them was Holt. He was, unsurprisingly, smirking. I pictured the man’s head bouncing off the table. The shard gun smashing into his chest. The attached shock stick taking him down. I smirked too.

  Lawrence was nowhere in sight. I thought he’d be there to give me a warm welcome back.

  ‘I think you know your way,’ DeMartino said.

  Holt carried a shock stick. He hadn’t learned his lesson. He did take a casual step backwards as I passed though. He’d learned something.

  The other two cops congratulated DeMartino as we passed. The UPSF was about to get a dozen or so applications thanks to DeMartino’s visit. He just grunted. He had no more time for suck ups than I did. Not that I’d ever have anyone sucking up to me.

  I was taken back to the same interview room. Sat in the same seat. Strapped to the same table. This time, DeMartino sat opposite me. The chair creaked.

  The man was about six feet tall. Tanned skin. Real tan. Not like Little Dick’s. His hair, face and hands were as neat as his suit. The rain didn’t seem to have touched him. When he spoke, it was with an accent. I recognised it from holofilms as Italian. Just about everyone in this city was descended from Americans. We had no fancy accents here.

  He watched me. Like Lawrence had done. I felt the nerves. More so this time. I’d known Lawrence already. I didn’t know what to expect from DeMartino. I guessed that was why I hadn’t seen Lawrence yet.

  ‘What was her name?’ DeMartino asked.

  Did he mean Lucy?

  ‘I find it interesting that, after protesting your innocence all morning, you didn’t once use the victim’s name.’ He didn’t mean Lucy.

  ‘I never asked her for a name,’ I said.

  ‘And you never asked Detective Lawrence for it. You’re accused of her murder and you don’t even want to know her name.’

  ‘Are you trying to take some meaning from that?’

  ‘I find it interesting,’ he repeated.

  DeMartino reached into his suit. Pulled out a datapad. Naturally, it was pristine. Not like Lawrence’s old, battered one. He switched it on. Read something on the screen for a moment.

  ‘Sixteen,’ he said. He wanted me to ask what he was talking about. I didn’t. ‘That’s how many times you’ve applied for a private detective licence. And not just from the Terran Council. You applied to the Krathans, the Ordassis, the Korellians… Is there anyone you didn’t go to for that shiny little badge?’

  ‘Well I don’t know what to say. I guess I just wanted to make a difference. Bring justice to my little town. Be a shining beacon in the suffocating darkness of Harem.’

  ‘Noble.’ He wasn’t bothered by my default setting: ‘sarcastic asshole’. ‘Why were you turned down time after time?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘No, I know what this file says. And it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. So you tell me.’

  ‘Can you provide me with some compelling reason as to why I should do that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you’re shit out of luck. Story time was earlier. Sent Lawrence off to sleep.’

  ‘I’ll try to work it out on my own then…’

  ‘Why?’ What bearing did that have on this case? They were already convinced I’d killed the barmaid. They had all the evidence they needed. Why was I back in this room?

  DeMartino ignored me. ‘You were in the police academy. Well, that’s a strong term for what Harem has. But you were in it. You weren’t particularly adept. But you weren’t too bad. You were average.’

  In official terms, he was right. But what else would the instructors say about someone who didn’t respond well to authority? In reality I’d done a little better than average. Perhaps not much better. But better.

  ‘Then you killed your girlfriend.’ My eyes locked on his. I wanted to hit him. He knew it. ‘Sorry, I mean…then your girlfriend disappeared. Under suspicious circumstances. Blood was found.’

  ‘Traces.’

  ‘She left no note and contacted no one about leaving. Not even you, apparently. She didn’t catch any flight off the planet or to anywhere else on the planet.’

  ‘Maybe she took a cab.’

  ‘Just…disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘And what does that have to do with a dead barmaid ten years later?’

  ‘Not very much at all. What confuses me is that you were booted from the academy around the same time. The same day, in fact.’ What the hell was he talking about this for? ‘Now, it would make sense to remove you because you were under investigation. But m
aybe that came first. This is a badly put together file, like most of them in this place. Hard to tell what’s what from it. Maybe you were kicked out of the academy and decided to take your anger out on…’ he checked the datapad, ‘…Lucy.’

  ‘That’s an impressive skill. Scanning over a file and knowing the ins and outs like you were there. Now I’ll try to work out something relevant. You brought me in after my so-called “escape” and dragged me straight back to this room. Not a cell. Not out to Anshan. Here. To sit and wag your chin at me. Lawrence already went through as much questioning as any court would need to convict. So my guess is: you’re not as sure as you were this morning. Something’s happened. Something’s changed. Suddenly no one knows what to think. Is Jack Mason the killer…or not?’

  ‘Not bad for average.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  DeMartino just looked at me for a while. He didn’t want to tell me. Didn’t have a lot of options though. ‘We have a girl in the next room who swears blind that Richard Webster killed the barmaid. She says she saw you go out and him go in. Then he came out quick, covered in blood, and got into his father’s car. She has…pictures.’ He said the word carefully, almost as though he didn’t believe it.

  I thought about it. Had Little Dick been in my apartment? I’d already considered the possibility. But I’d also dismissed it on the grounds that even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal whatever daddy Webster wanted from the girl. For the third time that hour I wondered if Little Dick was working on something behind Webster’s back. Maybe he was working to move the old man out of office.

  ‘What girl?’ I asked. ‘What pictures?’

  ‘I can’t divulge that information, Mr. Mason.’

  ‘We’re back to “Mr. Mason” again, are we?’

  I didn’t know of any girl living close by me. I liked that street because it was full of old people. Less trouble. Besides, old people could be as good as security cameras. They watched everything. If anyone ever came snooping around my place, they’d never think some fragile old coot would be a threat to them. But that old coot would pass on what they saw to me. The real threat. But that hadn’t worked this morning. I’d left at pretty much the only time of the day that not a single one of my neighbours would have been watching. Which meant Little Dick, or whoever it was, had got into my apartment also without being watched. Except apparently this girl was watching. But why?

  ‘Who broke you out of custody, Mr. Mason?’

  ‘People with guns and masks.’

  ‘I think I’m beginning to like you, Mr. Mason, but you’re not very bright. There’s a very slim chance that you might actually beat a murder rap, but you’d rather play coy. You need to tell me everything you know if you want that slim chance.’

  ‘A second ago, it was a very slim chance. Seems my odds are increasing by the second.’

  ‘So you don’t want to tell me who helped you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say they helped me. They tried to teach me to swim, but I never much liked the water. And it’s real hard with your hands tied behind your back.’

  ‘So someone broke you out to kill you. Who? Why?’

  ‘They wanted something I couldn’t give them.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why I couldn’t give it to them.’

  ‘They broke you out of custody, took you to the lake to half drown you because they wanted something that either you have or they think you have, but they didn’t think to mention what that thing was?’

  ‘When you put it like that, it almost sounds made up.’

  ‘It does, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Holt?’ This might not have been wise.

  ‘Holt?’

  ‘Officer Holt just happened to pick the perfect moment to switch off the camera, release my restraints and shock me. Just in time for some goons to burst in and take me. It seems quite convenient. How is Officer Holt? I noticed they didn’t give him much more than a love tap…’

  DeMartino seemed to be considering what I was saying. I didn’t know if he’d look into it though. He was more likely to than the cops here, but he had no reason to believe that Holt had done any such thing. The man had probably come up with some story about how he heroically tried to stop the breakout but was incapacitated by the intruders.

  I could be off anyway. Why would they have made a show of hitting him when the camera was dead and they expected me to be the same way within hours? The whole thing was confusing.

  ‘Are you going to answer my question?’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Which came first? Lucy’s death or your expulsion from the academy?’

  ‘My mind gets a little fuzzy around the five year mark. That was ten years ago.’

  ‘Your mind gets a little fuzzy around the time the woman you were meant to be in love with disappears. Or dies. I notice you’re not too bothered about me saying she’s dead. Almost like you know she is.’

  ‘You can say whatever you want. Doesn’t bother me. Plenty of people have said plenty of things in ten years. I have no reason to explain myself all over again to you.’ I had no reason to explain why she was dead. Not to him. It was me that needed it explained. Just about every time I caught sight of myself in a mirror.

  ‘So let’s talk about your…abduction. Would you call it that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it a dinner date.’

  ‘You won’t tell me who took you or why. Okay. I know where. But that doesn’t help me much. And if it doesn’t help me, then it doesn’t help you. It’s the why that interests me the most. Shall I tell you what I think about all this?’

  ‘You do a lot of thinking for someone in such a nice suit.’

  ‘I think they took you because you know something. Something big. Something useful to me.’

  ‘Maybe I was hasty with the lots of thinking crack.’

  ‘Why were you in that club?’

  ‘Huh?’ I hadn’t expected the sudden shift in topic.

  ‘Why were you in Webster’s club last night?’

  ‘What does a man usually do in a club? I was drinking and watching the twenty-year-olds gyrate.’

  ‘With a fake badge? In a place like that? Not really your kind of scene, is it? I spoke to the cab driver. He remembers the victim probing you about an investigation. What investigation was she referring to, Mr. Mason? What does a civilian without a PI licence investigate?’

  ‘I was investigating several claims concerning The Web.’

  ‘What claims?’ I nearly felt sorry for DeMartino. He tried not to show it, but he actually thought he was getting somewhere now.

  ‘That they make the best appletinis in the city.’

  ‘Isn’t that a girl’s drink?’

  ‘I’m secure enough that I’m not afraid the kind of liquid I put in my glass will change my gender. I usually prefer whiskey though.’

  ‘I prefer coffee myself.’

  The hell were we talking about?

  The door opened. DeMartino’s face gave nothing away as he watched the newcomer.

  ‘Hello again, Jack.’ It was the man with a first name for a last name. ‘Glad you came back to visit.’

  ‘Afternoon, Detective. Or is it evening now?’ I couldn’t keep track of the time today. Unconsciousness didn’t help. I glanced around for windows or a clock. There was neither.

  ‘You’ve been busy today, Jack.’ Lawrence stayed somewhere behind me. I expected him to drop something heavy on the table again at some point. I’d probably jump again. At this point it would probably send me into a fit of giggling. Then a fit of rage. I was like that sometimes. ‘First you kill a sweet little barmaid. Then you break out of police custody. Then you go and kill two more men.’

  DeMartino raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Does this mean we don’t need Mr. Mason to tell us who took him from your precinct?’

  ‘I think it does.’ The file hit the desk before I registered the movement. I jumped at the bang in mad
e. I didn’t laugh. ‘Agent DeMartino, say hello to Richard Webster. Shot and dropped in the drink.’ They’d worked fast to find him already.

  ‘Little Dick Webster,’ I said with a small sigh. Shame he’d had to die. He could have aided my investigation. He was my investigation. ‘Actually he was dropped in the “drink” and then shot. What century are you from again?’

  ‘“Little Dick”,’ DeMartino repeated with a smile. ‘That’s why I like you, Mr. Mason. Your wit is so very clever.’ I suspected sarcasm. ‘So your investigation was into Webster junior? That interests me greatly. Doesn’t that interest you, Detective Lawrence?’

  ‘What interests me,’ Lawrence said, ‘is putting Jack here in chains and personally driving him up to Anshan to watch him die a killer’s death.’

  DeMartino didn’t respond to that. ‘I happen to believe the Websters are – or were in the case of “Little Dick” – involved in something highly illegal.’ Now it was my turn to be interested. He hadn’t come here for me. He’d come for Webster. ‘I think the mining operation is a front. That’s why I’m here. So, again: what was it you were investigating?’

  I looked at him for about a minute, trying to decide whether to talk or not. I didn’t have much to say, but I needed it to sound like a lot. There was no point in me continuing to try to be clever if landed me in Anshan.

  ‘This city’s lack of colour.’ I could tell he thought I was being funny again. ‘Haven’t you noticed? You won’t find a single person in Harem who isn’t white.’ DeMartino frowned. He’d be running through all the faces he’d seen since he arrived. Trying to find something a little darker than the paper in Lawrence’s file. I couldn’t see Lawrence’s reaction.

  ‘Could you elaborate?’ DeMartino said.

  ‘I saw a black girl once. Once. A few months ago. She was being hassled by a few men in an alley. One of them, I learned later, was Little Dick Webster. All I know about the other two is that they should be prize fighters. I woke up in the same alley and the girl was gone. Not just gone from the alley, but gone from Harem. I asked around until I found her apartment. It was deserted. No furniture, no clothes, no girl. The neighbours on either side were cagey. Denied she’d ever lived there.’