by John Zakour
The air was thick now, charged with tension. Ona stared silently at me for several long nanos. Her face was eerily emotionless, her gaze icy. When at last she looked away, she gently touched the restart button on her desktop and the poll data re-booted on the screen. Then she adjusted her jacket and motioned the two grooming bots to her side.
“Your services are no longer required here, Mr. Johnson,” she said. “Please collect your things and leave the premises immediately.”
“You’re afraid to face the truth, Ona,” I said. “Real life is smacking you in the head like a sledgehammer and you’re content to play your little girl games.”
“I have a splinterview to do at the nano. The computer will see you out.”
“Fine, hang yourself,” I said, grabbing my hat. “See if I care.”
HARV and I got up from our chairs and headed toward the door.
“Do we still get paid?” HARV whispered.
“Shut up, HARV.”
“By the way,” he said. “You have a call coming in from Captain Rickey.”
“Put it on the interface.”
Tony’s face appeared on the tiny screen of the wrist interface.
“What’s up Tony?”
“Plenty, are you alone?”
I cast a quick glance back at Ona who was just beginning another “righteous indignation” splinterview.
“I am appalled that the innocent-until-proven-guilty standards that provide the foundation of our society are so callously ignored by a press corp who are DOS bent on creating a headline scandal from this senseless tragedy.”
I shook my head slowly as we left the office and headed into the hallway, Ona’s office door closing ominously behind me.
“Yes, I’m alone.”
“Good, because something’s happened and I don’t want anyone else to hear this.”
“I don’t think it matters much to me anymore, Tony…”
“We found the poison,” he said. “And it’s not in the wine.”
31
I was no longer officially attached to the case, but Tony’s news made me forget about that and I found myself caught up in the excitement of the bombshell.
“You found what?”
Tony’s face was all professional and, on the surface, had that just-the-facts-Ma’am steady tone that good cops do so well, but his undertone was one of excitement. Everybody loves a good mystery when it starts to unravel.
“Forensics went through the contents of the room. They did scans on the silverware and found traces of T and D on one of Foraa’s forks.”
“T and D?”
“That's short for Touch and Die. It’s a designer poison, boss,” HARV said.
“Very expensive,” Tony insisted.
“And it was on the silverware?”
“Just Foraa’s fork, one of them anyway,” Tony said. “There were so many of them at the place setting. I don’t know how rich people tell them apart. This was really tiny, it had only three tines.”
“That’s the fruit fork,” HARV said, “for use when a small dish of fruit or sherbet is served between courses to cleanse the palette.”
“They’d use a fork for sherbet?”
“A spoon is traditional but apparently W chose the fork variation when he prepared the settings. A rather bold choice for him.”
“Will you two shut up about the forks. I’m trying to…Wait, W set the table.”
“What?” Tony asked.
“W set the table. That’s his specialty. He was working right up until nearly the time of the dinner.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“It’s on the surveillance recordings. HARV just checked them. W told me himself that it took him two full days to polish the silverware. He’s the only one who touches it. Gates, Tony, do you know what this means?”
Tony’s face lit up.
“The butler did it!”
“Darn, Tony, I wanted to say that.”
“Are you at Ona’s mansion now?”
“We’re here but we’re sort of on our way out.”
“Well, stay put,” Tony said. “I’m getting an arrest warrant and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
His image blinked out and I stood in the hallway for a few nanos, softly shaking my head.
“There’s one I didn’t see coming.”
“Perhaps there’s a reason for that,” HARV said.
“What?”
His hologram appeared beside me, projected from the wrist interface. His jacket was unbuttoned, far more casual than the norm. His hair was fuller than it had been this morning (I wish mine grew that fast) and was a little disheveled in that I’m-a-genius-and-don’t-have-time-to-comb-my-hair-way. And I think that the patches on his elbows were larger too. I couldn’t help but smile at his new detective phase. At least it was better than him wanting to be a cowboy.
“What was W’s motive for the murder? What did he gain by killing Foraa?”
I shrugged my shoulders and continued walking.
“I guess the police will find that out when they arrest him?”
“I’m not convinced.”
“He lied in our interview,” I said. “He claimed that Foraa was always nice to him. But Opie said the two of them argued all the time. Even the day of the murder.”
“That doesn’t mean he killed her.”
“Like I said, it’s something the police can figure out when they arrest him.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Johnson…” Ona’s computer said softly.
“I know, I know,” I said picking up my pace. “Time for me to go.”
“Actually, no, sir. I’d like you to stay on for the immediate future.”
“What do you mean? Ona just fired me and aside from that, I’m sure you just heard. The police are coming to arrest W.”
“That’s exactly why we need your help, sir,” the computer responded. “I’m afraid that the police won’t find W when they arrive.”
“Why’s that?”
A small indoor hovercraft pulled up beside me and nudged me gently in the back of the knee.
“Because W has become a flight risk,” the computer said. “Now please hurry, you need to get to the hoverport immediately.”
We made it to the hoverport in a couple of minutes. Sure enough a sleek, all-black, hoverjet was warmed up and appeared to be running its last internal diagnostics before lift-off.
“There’s no authorization of use for that hoverjet,” the computer said.
“Can you stop it?” I asked.
“NFAA regulations allow me control over only personal hovercrafts. I’m allowed only limited interfacing with hoverjets.”
“You control the overhead doors for launches, though, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Good. Keep them closed” I said, jogging toward the jet. “HARV and I will handle the geriatric killer.”
HARV’s hologram shimmered to life beside me as I ran. He pretended to run alongside me, but his feet didn’t touch the ground, which kind of blew the illusion.
“I still don’t like this,” he said.
“Neither do I, but we have to keep W here until Tony shows up.”
“No, I mean, our assumption that W is the killer. It doesn’t feel right.”
“He’s running away. That’s sort of indicates that he’s done something wrong,” I said. “We’ll worry about making the case later. Right now, we need to keep him here.”
The jet door was closed and the stairs leading to it were folded inside the cabin in preparation for launch. I popped my gun into hand and aimed it at the barred door as I ran.
“Do I have enough firepower?”
“The door is reinforced,” HARV replied. “Use a concentrated maximum blast.”
I squeezed the gun handle twice to activate the voice controls.
“Big bang, tight,” I said, pulling the trigger.
A small blast of fiery-red energy erupted from the gun barrel and slammed into the door, bursting th
rough the metal/plastic polymer. The door splintered inward and flew from its moorings as the blast obliterated the small portion of the jet. Being careful not to touch too much of the charred debris, I hopped into the newly made hole and pulled myself into the main cabin.
The blast had shorted out part of the electrical system so the lights were off in the passenger area. The cockpit, however, was still alive and kicking and that’s where I found W. He had just risen from the pilot seat and was turning toward me on his brittle, slow-moving legs.
“Mr. Johnson. What are you doing here?”
“Hello W. I have some friends coming over soon. And I was thinking that we might all want some tea.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that right now,” he said. “I have a previous engagement.”
“Sorry, W but your attendance at this party is mandatory and…Oh DOS, can we just skip over the snappy banter and cut to the chase?”
“I’d prefer it, actually,” he said with a nod.
“And I think you’re reaching by using the term ‘snappy’ to describe that banter,” HARV said.
“We found the poison,” I said, raising my gun to him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“I thought we were going to skip the banter.”
“Oh, that’s right, sorry,” he said. “Forgive me, I’m new at this.”
“Fine,” I said. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now the police are on their way so let’s not make this ugly. Power down the jet. I’ll help you back to the main building and we’ll meet the police together.”
He sighed, nodded gently and then looked sadly away.
“A fine idea,” he said, and took a slow step toward me.
Then he raised his gaze and gave me a smile that sent a chill down my backbone.
“But I think not.”
He spun around quickly (more quickly than I thought him capable) and stabbed a button on the main console of the cockpit.
“Launch sequence initiated,” the metallic voice of the cockpit computer toned. “Vertical launch in one minute.”
The jet’s engines roared to life and the craft lurched, throwing me off balance. W kept his footing and leapt at me (yes, leapt).
“What the…?”
And that was all that I could manage. I was too stunned by his sudden movements to do much of anything as he kicked the gun out of my hand and then hit me in the face, spinning me around as I tumbled to the floor.
“I’m getting out of here,” he said, kicking me in the back when I tried to get up. “And no third rate detective, is going to stop me.”
He threw another kick at me but I managed to get an arm up on this one and grab his well-loafered foot. It felt heavy in my hand. Far heavier than it should have.
“Just for the record,” I said, “I’m a second rate detective. And you’re a cold blooded killer.”
I gave his leg a heave and he fell backward into the cockpit. He scrambled to his knees and started crawling toward the jet controls. I jumped him from behind and the two of us began wrestling on the floor.
“I know the when and the how,” I said. “What I’m looking for now is the why. Why did you kill Foraa?”
“Because she was a disrespectful little bitch,” he said. “A spoiled, egotistical, haughty, arrogant, super human bitch.”
“That describes all of the Quads doesn’t it?”
“You’re right,” he said, elbowing me in the stomach. “Did I mention she was also blackmailing me?”
He broke free of my grasp and stumbled toward the controls.
“No, you forgot that one.”
“Forgive me,” he said. “She was blackmailing me. You see, I’ve been embezzling funds from Ona for several years now. Cleaning supplies for cutlery and silverware aren’t nearly as expensive as Ona thinks they are. Foraa found out and threatened to tell her. I couldn’t let that happen.”
He stabbed another button on the cockpit console and the jet shook again as the engines fired in preparation for lift-off.
“Being dismissed by one’s employer is a very black mark on a butler’s curriculum vitae.”
“As opposed to embezzlement and murder…”
“Excuse me, boss,” HARV said, “but I feel it important to note here that the hoverjet is now officially engaged in its lift-off mode and that the heat of the thrusters will likely incinerate this entire hangar unless you allow the computer to retract the rooftop doors and open a launch hole in the force field.”
“Open the doors,” I said, still grappling, with W, “but keep the force field intact.”
“But…”
“Do it,” I said, as W hit me solidly in the face. My head shot back and I felt my teeth chatter.
“And by the way,” HARV said, “I suspect that W’s actions are being artificially augmented.”
“You figured that out did you?”
The hangar itself started to vibrate as the massive overhead doors began to open. W smiled as the jet received the official green light for liftoff and he stabbed the launch button. The jet shuddered again and slowly rose into the air. I got up from the floor and pulled W out of the cockpit seat.
“You won’t get very far in this thing with that gaping hole in the side you know.”
“Then I’ll patch it with your corpse,” he said, hitting me again with a lightning fast jab. I stumbled farther back into the cabin as the jet continued to rise.
“Why would you do it?” I asked. “Why embezzle funds? What could you possibly want that badly?”
“Well, you see, I’m getting on in years now.”
“Yes, I’d noticed that.”
He turned to me and I saw his body began to tremble, as though chilled by an icy draft, slowly increasing in intensity.
“And I was growing tired of my feeble body.”
The tremble of his form had become feverish now, almost violent, as though his joints were pulling themselves apart. W seemed gleefully nonplussed by it all.
“So I traded in my old body…for something new.”
He stretched his hand toward me, menacingly, and I saw his arm begin to stretch. The fabric of his day coat ripped as the arm turned inhumanly long and kept on growing, stretching at me whip-like, a white gloved tentacle of death. I could see now the metallic sheen of the skin beneath the torn shirt and jacket as his hand grabbed me by the throat. W was no longer human.
“You bought an android body.”
“I made the transfer last night,” he said. “You’d be amazed how much a good body costs these days.”
The hoverjet leveled off at a twenty meter height and began to idle, hovering over the compound like a black metallic cloud, the heat from its thrusters, beating down on the buildings below. While inside, W’s android arm lifted me off the ground by my throat as I desperately pulled at his hand. He smiled, gleefully as he began to tighten his grip.
“This body is simply amazing,” he said. “Do you know how quickly I can now do a formal setting for twelve? The possibilities simply stagger the imagination.”
He turned and extended his other arm a few meters into the cockpit and engaged the forward thrusters. The jet slowly began to move. Through the cockpit window, I could see that we were headed toward the force field wall near the camouflaged main gate.
“Computer,” he shouted, “open a launch window in the field.”
“Request denied, W,” the computer responded.
“What?”
“Mr. Johnson has over-ridden all hangar and forcefield access. I’ll need the command from him.”
W turned to me and tightened his grip on my throat.
“You know, thirty years ago I could have thrashed you thoroughly with my old body,” he said.
“Yeah, but you would have looked kind of ridiculous beating up a six year old kid.”
“Have the computer open a window in the field,” he said.
“No.”
His droid fingertips dug deep into
the muscles of my neck, his thumb painfully plucking at my Adam’s apple as though it were a guitar string.
“Open the window,” he snarled.
We were approaching the force field quickly now, the jet’s thrusters revving, atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed. But I held my ground
“No.”
“Boss, please,” HARV said, “you’re not even getting paid for this.”
W pushed me hard against the wall of the cockpit and stepped up power to the thrusters. He and I locked eyes like two poker players over the last big pot of the night as the jet lurched and accelerated toward the force field.
“Do it now,” he said, “or I’ll flambé you like a cherries jubilee.”
“Polish my brass, butler.”
I stuck out my hand and shouted above the din of the jet thrusters.
“Come to papa.”
My gun responded to the voice command and flew toward me from the floor beneath a seat where it had landed. The handle slipped into my palm with a familiar slap and I held it low as the computer innards came to life at its recognition of my heat signature.
“Burn, baby!”
The gun flashed recognition at my voice command and I pulled the trigger. A white-hot laser blast erupted from the barrel, hitting W in the android armpit and burning through his shoulder like a cattle brand in a snow bank. This time I was too close to the blast and felt a burn go up my arm but W took the real brunt of the blast.
W screamed, more out of surprise than pain as his arm fell to the floor, (and me with it). I pulled the hand from my throat and threw the severed arm aside while W grabbed at his smoldering stub, trying desperately to hold himself together.
“Careful there, W,” I said, “you’re likely to burn your other glove.”
“Glove?” HARV whispered.
I stepped past W into the cockpit and reached for the power-down controls on the thrusters. But W leaped at me from his knees, a wild-eyed look of fury in his face.
“Boss, that’s it,” HARV said. “Gloves.”
