by David Archer
Hamm was squirming around on his back, one hand over his face and the other waving in the air as if trying to get a grip on the smaller man. Waller had landed on his side, but bounced quickly to his feet, rushing again and delivering a massive kick of his bare foot to the side of Hamm's head.
Hamm was suddenly waving both hands in the air, and the camera drone moved in for a closer view of his face. Both Carson and Charlotte gasped, and in his own apartment, so did Martin James. Hamm's left eye was a bloodied mess, but the real damage showed near the side of his right temple, where a graphic and disgusting-looking dent had been cracked into his skull.
Waller stood over him for just a moment, looking down at the man with an expression that radiated sadness, but also survival. He jumped into the air and brought his left foot down with all of his weight behind it onto Hamm's throat. The big man convulsed, and it was obvious that the blow had crushed his larynx. Waller stepped back as Darrell Hamm fought for breath, but the injury was mortal.
A clock appeared on the screen, and Carson watched it tick off the seconds. It took a total of three minutes and twenty seconds for Hamm to stop moving, and thirty seconds later an incredibly loud buzzer went off, announcing that the biometric pulse monitor that was surgically implanted against his carotid artery confirmed his death.
Graphic banners appeared on the screen, announcing that Jerry Waller had defeated Darrell Hamm in his first-ever fight.
“What an upset!” Charlie said. “Darrell Hamm is dead! I don't believe it! Oh, you know there are a lot of disappointed gamblers out there tonight!”
“Not everyone, Charlie,” said the other commentator. “There were quite a few bets on Jerry Waller tonight, too, and since they were paying as high as fifteen to one, you can bet there are some celebrations going on.”
The music flared, and Carson looked at the time display. The entire fight had taken only twenty-four minutes, almost unheard of for a fight in which a first-timer actually won. In the back of his mind, he was calculating his winnings and coming up with the story he would tell Charlotte about the bet, but another part of him was wondering just what kind of man Jerry Waller must be.
Despite the fact that he was fighting for his life, Waller had displayed genuine regret when it came time to take his opponent's life. He had done it, but it was obvious to Carson that he had done it as mercifully as he could. No, suffocating with a crushed larynx couldn't have been a comfortable way to die, and the minutes it took for the brain to shut down from lack of oxygen probably seemed to go on forever, but the blow that crushed Hamm’s throat brought death much more quickly than if Waller had simply begun kicking and beating the man.
Carson couldn't help wondering how he himself would handle a situation like that. Fortunately, he would never have to find out.
NINE
Nearly a month had gone by since Charlotte had witnessed the attack on Ground Level, and she had pretty much forgotten all about it. She was nearing her deadline, and spending almost all of her free time working on polishing the first draft of the novel into something she was willing to put her name on.
She was wracking her brain, trying to come up with a new way to rephrase one of the closing paragraphs, when her holo-tab sounded an incoming call. She tapped the wristband to answer and was surprised to see Inspector James's face appear.
“Ms. Reynolds? I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm Detective Inspector Martin James. We spoke a while back about an event you witnessed.”
Charlotte instinctively brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead as she smiled. “Oh, yes, I remember,” she said. “How have you been?”
Martin smiled. “I'm doing pretty well,” he said. “I'm calling because the suspect in that attack is going to trial in a few days, and I wanted to let you know that you will be needed to testify, after all. Will that be a problem?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Oh no, no problem. Just let me know when and where. Do I need to come in beforehand, maybe talk to the prosecutor or something?”
“Actually, yes. If you have the time, I'd like to meet with you and go over your statement and get it signed, and then I can introduce you to the prosecutor on the case. Would it be convenient for you to come by tomorrow?”
The next day was a Wednesday, so Carson would be at work all day. “Sure,” she said. “When and where?”
“Well, we should meet at my office. Do you know where my station is, on Ground Level? It's right close to where the event took place. If you could come here about nine o'clock tomorrow morning, we could finish up what we need to do and then I could escort you up to Forty-One, where the courthouse and prosecutor's office are.” He smiled. “I can even offer you lunch, at the expense of the Authority.”
Charlotte smiled and nodded her head. “Okay, nine in the morning. I'll be there.”
Martin grinned from ear to ear. “I'm certainly looking forward to it,” he said, and then he ended the call before she could react.
Charlotte would have been embarrassed at her own reaction, had he seen it. She found herself feeling a bit of excitement at the prospect of meeting him again. Inspector James was certainly a handsome man, and she attributed her feeling to a natural reaction to the presence of a good-looking fellow, but he was also a very “manly” man. She loved Carson with all her heart, but she occasionally wished he was more of an alpha type. The closest he ever got to being a tough guy was when he got excited over the big weekend fights on Justice Net.
She went back to work on her manuscript, though it took her a few minutes to get back into the story. There were still a few hours before Carson would get home, and she planned out how she would tell him about her appointment the following day. The last thing she wanted was for him to pick up on the—let's face it—the attraction that she felt whenever she thought of or spoke to the inspector.
The rest of the day passed rather quickly, and she found herself actually getting finished with her edits ahead of schedule. She still had more than an hour before Carson would arrive, and decided to treat herself to a bath. She ran the water, stripped down and stepped into it, and shortly found herself imagining what the next day's meeting might be like.
Of course, she'd never cheat on Carson, but she had learned over the years that every woman liked a little outside attention. Surely, there was no harm in that, as long as you were smart enough to remember where you belong. Charlotte belonged with Carson, of that she had no doubt. She might enjoy a bit of Martin's flirtations, and might even allow herself a fantasy or two, but there was no way she would ever be willing to give up the wonderful relationship she had at home.
Martin had spent the rest of the afternoon similarly, thinking about meeting with Charlotte. He had never quite forgotten the day they had first met, nor the attraction he had felt for her the moment she looked into his eyes. At least once a day, he scanned through his reports to see if there was any hope she might be single sometime soon, but nothing seemed to lend itself to such a scenario. Everything he knew about Carson Pace suggested that the fellow was steady as a rock and entirely faithful, so there was nothing he could use in that line. He had briefly considered trying to implicate the professor in something criminal, but again, the man was simply as honest as the day was long.
* * * * *
Carson arrived home on schedule, just as he always did, and Charlotte met him at the door with a kiss. He told her about his day, and she shared the problems and successes she’d had in completing the manuscript, while she prepared dinner for the two of them. Tonight, it would be something special, not for any specific reasons, but just because she felt like it. She was preparing one of his favorite dishes, an Italian chicken recipe she had learned from her mother.
“I love chicken,” Carson said, inhaling the aroma. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Who says you have to do something? Maybe I just want to spoil my man a little bit, had you thought of that?”
Carson laughed. “Sounds good to me, honey. Maybe I should
think of it more often.”
He went to the chiller and got out a bottle of beer, waving it in the air to ask Charlotte if she wanted one. She shook her head, so he flipped open the top and watched it fold itself out of the way. A long pull on the bottle sent the icy liquid down his throat, and he moaned in pleasure. “Oh, that hits the spot,” he said. He sat down at the table to watch her as she cooked, and smiled. “Don't think I don't know what a lucky man I am,” he said. “I don't know any of my buddies who have a woman that still cooks. Seems like everybody else just punches something up in the delivery service and waits for it to show up on the table.”
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. “I like cooking,” she said. “It's just about to become a lost art, from what I hear. I like the idea that I can do something most people can't.”
Carson nodded and took another pull of the bottle. “Anything exciting happen today?” he asked.
Charlotte suddenly felt a nervousness overtake her, and for a brief second she wondered if he somehow already knew about her appointment the next morning. As far as she could imagine, there was no way he could possibly know about it, though. She smiled and looked at him again.
“No, nothing special. Although, I did get a call from that police inspector, remember when I saw that guy stab that woman? They want me to go and talk to the prosecutor tomorrow, I guess that man's trial is coming up pretty soon.”
She looked quickly back at her cooking, suddenly aware that she had omitted her appointment to meet with Inspector James. A part of her wanted to turn around and tell him about it, but another part just wanted to leave things as they were. It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong, after all. She just had to meet a police officer and sign the statement she had given when the attack had occurred. So she was getting lunch out of the deal, so what? There wasn't anything wrong with that. Besides, it was the Police Authority that would be paying for the lunch, not Inspector James himself. It wasn't like it was a date or anything, and she was a taxpayer. She could just chalk it up to her tax money at work.
She finished cooking and they sat down to eat, enjoying the usual kind of conversation they always had during a meal. Carson complimented her repeatedly on how wonderful the chicken tasted, and she smiled as she always did, but this time it seemed like she was having to force the smiles. She was feeling guilty about keeping her secret, but if she were to confess that now, it might seem that she was trying to hide it before.
“Honey, is something bothering you?” Carson asked her. “You just seem all tense.”
She did her best to look innocent. “Bothering me? No, not really, not anything I can think of. Maybe I'm just a little overstressed about trying to get ready for the deadline. I made it, but it always makes me anxious.”
Carson smiled and nodded. “That's probably it,” he said. He didn't push the issue, but she did notice that he seemed to be watching her as they finished eating. It was enough to shorten her appetite, and she didn't quite finish her plate.
As soon as he was done, they put the dishes into the sink. “Dishes ready,” Charlotte said, and the lid of the sink closed down over them. The apartment's automated systems could do many simple household chores for its owner, so the dishes would be clean, dry and put into their proper place within a matter of minutes. Charlotte and Carson went to the living room and cuddled up together on the sofa.
Carson checked Justice Net, but there were no fights that interested him that night, so he went to his favorite news network, just to see what was going on in the world. As always, there was a lot of political commentary, most of it in support of the GU and its General Secretary, Nicholas Rawson, but there were other stories, as well. Carson suddenly sat forward when one of them began.
“The domestic terror group known as Nostrado has claimed responsibility for another cyberattack on the GU. The group's mysterious leader, known only as Demetrius, issued a statement this morning insisting that the data they had released and posted on numerous websites around the world was hacked directly from the Global Union Department of Justice. The data seems to show that Justice Net Coordinator Oscar Lineman has conspired with member state politicians to ensure that the system continues to profit from citizens' wagers on the fights. Justice Net is funded entirely by its profits from those wagers, and any profits over its own costs are required to be passed on to the member nation that each fighter comes from. According to Nostrado, however, Lineman has been making under-the-table deals with national leaders that allow him and many on his staff to siphon off billions of dollars each year.”
The screen switched to a new view, showing a man wearing a rather ugly mask. “Lineman and his cronies are lining their pockets at the expense of our citizens,” the man was saying, his voice distorted electronically. “People are beginning to notice that the courts are sentencing more and more people to Justice Net, often on purely circumstantial evidence. The corruption runs all the way down from Lineman and officials in the GU Department of Justice to literally thousands of the magistrates who pass judgment and sentence. In the last year alone, more than sixty billion dollars were shared amongst those officials and the magistrates. It's time for the people to know the truth about their government, and just how corrupt it is!”
The screen went back to the announcer, who read the prepared statement from the government claiming that Nostrado was fabricating its evidence, and that no such collusion existed.
Charlotte had come into the room while the masked man was ranting, and she looked at Carson. “Do you honestly believe any of that stuff?”
Carson shrugged. “Politics is always corrupt,” he said. “That's one of the clearest lessons from history. And Justice Net is about a six hundred billion dollar-a-year industry, just from the betting. Do I think the money is being shared? Probably, but I'm not sure I believe that the magistrates are involved. Seems to me that at least some of them would be caught now and then, and I can't imagine them risking being thrust into the same certain death system that they sentence people to every day.”
He switched to the regular programming guide and let Charlotte choose what they would watch. CloudFlix had several new programs available, specifically produced for those who liked to binge. She pointed at one, a series called “The Inevitable,” and Carson selected it. The first episode was about a woman who was about to get married when she met a man who swept her off her feet, and Charlotte felt herself becoming even more nervous about her appointment in the morning.
Luckily, Carson didn't seem to notice. The episode ended with the wedding canceled, and Carson actually commented that he felt the woman had made the right decision. “Her fiancé was a jerk,” he said. “He treated the poor gal like she was property, the way men used to act in my great-grandmother's day. She would've been miserable if they got married.”
Charlotte nodded her agreement, but couldn't help watching Carson out of the corner of her eye. A part of her wondered whether he had recognized himself in some of the fiancé's actions. That was one of the only complaints she ever had about their relationship, that even though she loved him and knew that he loved her, she often felt more like a possession than a partner.
They watched another couple of episodes, but Charlotte said she was getting tired so they decided to call it an early night. It took them only a few minutes to get ready for bed, but Charlotte lay awake for more than an hour after Carson slipped off to dreamland. She realized it was a weeknight, and that he had to work the next morning, but she had hoped for more than just a quick kiss goodnight. She felt a tear fall from her eye, and told herself that she was being silly.
Morning came, and the video window in their bedroom showed them the view from up on Top, with the sun rising gently and spreading its light across the world. Charlotte awoke to see a beautiful sunflower waving in the breeze in the middle of the image, and she heard Carson singing in the shower as he did every morning. She smiled, dismissing her silly emotions of the night before. Sure, she had to go and see Inspecto
r James that day, but the bright morning light took away all of its fantasy mystique. She'd go sign her statement and meet with the prosecutor so that she would know what to expect in the courtroom, and then she would come home and fiddle with the notes for her next book until Carson came through the door once again.
She rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen. One of the things her mother had always taught her was never to let her man go off to work without a good, hearty breakfast. To Charlotte, that meant getting up and making breakfast for him. Carson loved eggs and bacon and sausage, he loved waffles and pancakes and many other things that had always been staples of breakfast, so she happily got started on a pair of matching cheese omelets. She would have breakfast with him, the way she almost always did before he went off to face the world.
An hour later, Carson kissed her at the door and stepped out to the waiting Uber. He climbed in as she watched, but then its door closed, it lifted off the floor and only a second later it vanished around the corner. Charlotte closed the door and turned to go and get dressed for her own day, and only then did it occur to her that she still hadn't mentioned the meeting.
TEN
Martin had come into his office early that morning, claiming that he wanted to get some work done before he had to start dealing with people for the day. The truth, however, was that he wanted to refresh his memory about the pretty lady he'd be seeing in a short time. He had gotten in the habit of looking at pictures of her every morning, many of them candid shots that were taken by safety and surveillance cameras in the commonways, but this was an activity he had to keep off the radar. That wasn't always easy, when everything went through the cloud, but Martin was good at covering his tracks.
