by Tara Tyler
“Of course. It’s pretty cool. And gives me a hidden advantage.”
“Hmm.”
When they pulled into a spot in the parking garage, Geri relayed some instructions, “Go ahead and get that cloth to the lab for testing. I doubt they’ll find anything useful, but it’s all we have. And since you did such a great job researching the DNA process for the meeting with Stu, I think you should do a little more. Find out who’s made the most recent discoveries. Maybe they could help us understand the tampering process. I will tap my resources to see if anyone has been asking for illegal DNA equipment on the black market, and get a feel for Rage’s reputation. I’ll also put a fire under Chris about the original DNA testing on the finger.”
“Dr. Moore?”
Geri shook her head. “Right. Dr. Moore. I’m sure he buried it because the guy was found and it would be too time-consuming to bother working on it. We can get together again on Monday and see what each other finds out.”
Aimee’s face fell. “Okay.”
Geri sighed again. “You have my number. You can call me if you make any major breakthroughs.”
The girl’s eyes lit up again. “Right. I will.”
The time had come for Geri to wedge out some separation from the perky princess’s emotional highs and lows. She might get attached and want to keep her.
As they went their separate ways, Geri shook her head again. Mr. Taylor said this case was important when he assigned it to her. So far the investigation was nothing but a big disappointment. She was never going to get anywhere with so little to go on. And that girl. Aimee didn’t seem to have an off button, or at least a dimmer switch. Geri didn’t know how long she could take her positive attitude.
If Geri didn’t find something big this weekend, she might consider reapplying at the CIA as an expendable. The cases were more exciting, and if she screwed up, it didn’t matter because expendables never existed.
Lake Lanier, GA
Friday, June 12, 2082
rews sank into the welcoming embrace of his supple red leather chair. He named it Gloria after his deceased wife. Not too firm, not too soft. A comforting hug from his oldest friend, the cushions had conformed to his sagging frame. Crews’ back was beginning to feel the twinges that came with his sixty-nine years, and he didn’t like it. But he refused to have any vain youthenizing surgeries or procedures that only worked on the surface. He had other plans to relive his youth. And McFarland was the key to passing the necessary laws to get him there. Congressman McFarland Wells was a political dream—handsome, innocent, yet imposing, with his very presence demanding respect. If only the boy wasn’t so ill equipped, lacking confidence and mental stamina.
As Crews reached for his nightly nourishment—a glass of water and a rainbow assortment of pills carefully arranged on a small saucer—he grimaced. Between each swallow, he glared at McFarland, mentally berating the towering lummox standing at attention behind the matching red leather couch across the room. The boy’s military background had some advantages with his constant adherence to structure and posture, and his discipline and ability to following orders were invaluable. But in the same vein, a loyal soldier was discouraged from asserting himself. Crews found that to be his greatest obstacle, quite the opposite of his former attention-seeking clientele. He’d traded one set of problems for another.
“At ease,” Crews said. He sometimes wondered what happened to McFarland during his military service that sent him running to the Unknown City. His childhood as Curtis Johnson had been traumatic, with his mother and brother killed during a holdup at a convenience store when he was ten. Luckily he’d survived high school without turning to drugs or getting himself arrested, then he joined the army. The Colonel hadn’t been able to finagle anything about his military career from his many connections. Those records were sealed up tight. Crews assumed McFarland was like most of the other homeless soldiers, unable to find work without any practical experience, unappreciated and forgotten, a victim of hard luck in hard times. Taking mercy on the boy, Crews brought Curtis under his wing, transforming him into McFarland and letting his dark history stay buried. It was dead for a reason. Crews just wanted the clean slate. The past didn’t matter.
McFarland relaxed his stance and looked around the room. Everywhere except at the Colonel. He still couldn’t look people directly in the eye. Especially the Colonel. And especially at the end of the day. The boy fidgeted, pulling at the edges of his jacket, eager to get away and have his free time. When McFarland thought he was unaccounted for, he revealed his hidden character, and Crews hated it. He knew what the boy was up to.
“Need to go somewhere, Congressman?” Crews emphasized the title with a sarcastic sneer. “Got a date?”
“No, sir.” McFarland fingered his collar.
But Crews knew his ward did have a date.
“McFarland, you must be stronger. You still have no inkling of a backbone.” After working with the boy for so long, he’d shown some improvement, but aggressiveness couldn’t be taught. Crews decided to push some buttons.
“I think you’ve been leaving your balls at her place!”
McFarland’s eyes exploded into Ping-Pong balls and his mouth dropped open. He spoke loudly with determination in his tone. Finally.
“Sir. No, sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes dropped to the floor. He was ashamed of his outburst, unable to face the Colonel with his deceit.
Crews wore a sinister smile. “So you do have some fight in you. Why can’t you show it when it counts? If we… if you want to advance any further, you must gain the respect of the influential. No one respects a dog with no bite, no matter how big they are.” Crews knew he was tired as his drawl slipped into his words. Shaking his head, he swallowed the last pill.
“Maybe I don’t want to go any further,” the boy mumbled.
Shocked by the callous statement, Crews gasped and choked on the pill. He stood up, stroking his neck, and pointed to his back. He gurgled as he grasped for air. Not like this!
McFarland leapt over the couch to help, but Echo got to him first.
The android pounded on Crews’ back, then did the Heimlich. Out popped the pill. It rolled across the expensive red Persian rug and got lost in the intricate design.
After alternately coughing and sucking in a few short breaths, Crews regained control of himself. He spun around and lunged at the hulking mastiff, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. He pulled his large face down to look him in the eye.
“You will break up with that trollop this very night! We were making some real headway until you started slipping away to her bed!” Crews flung the bit of shirt back at the astonished giant. Reaching behind himself, Crews felt around and eased back into his comforting chair. His glare stayed fixed on the shameful lummox.
McFarland grimaced at the floor, shaking his head as he returned to his original position. Crews could see the boy’s eyebrows reach for each other in confusion as he tried to come up with a way to keep his pet.
“Don’t bother straining yourself. We were going to have to cut her loose eventually anyway. It will be easier if we do it now. I’ve invested too much time and money in you—” Crews paused to cough and clear his throat. “Too much time and money. You will fulfill your end of this deal. There will be plenty of women once the goal has been achieved. Don’t waste it all on this starry-eyed social-climber.”
McFarland started to protest, “But sir, she—”
Crews held up his hand. “No buts. And to make sure you go through with it, Javon will accompany you. You will be quick about it and back here by eleven o’clock. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” McFarland brooded as he walked away like a tormented teenager.
Javon, the captain of his guard droids, followed McFarland out.
That boy just needed a good kick in the pants, like all young men did every once in a while. As soon as McFarland remembered who the boss was around there, he would be fine. Crews was thinking of t
he boy’s best interests. This difficult task would strengthen him. It was for his own good.
When Crews heard the door shut behind them, he picked himself up and waddled across the living room. Taking the three steps up, he entered his second favorite room in the house.
“Kitchen lights on eighty percent.”
The kitchen was always warm and fully stocked with every ingredient for any craving he might have. With all the latest appliances and cook programs, the kitchen could serve him whatever dish he imagined, and without a talkative, annoying chef. From preparation to cooking and serving to clean up, it was a show in itself with a delicious, happy ending every time. Though for this late night snack, he bypassed the elaborate kitchen program. He just needed something to settle his upset stomach.
“Echo, find me some crackers or cereal to munch on. All that excitement gave me indigestion.”
“Yes, sir.” Echo went off as instructed. So reliable and obedient.
When Crews took a seat on a short stool, it gently swiveled and lifted him up to the counter. He readied himself to watch the boy carry out his required duty. He wished humans could be more focused like androids. Hopefully McFarland would do what he needed to do without much trouble.
“Imager, show me Javon’s view. Volume fifty percent.”
While Crews watched the holographic display project from the ceiling above the kitchen counter, Echo presented a bowl of gourmet crackers, a replacement pill for the one he’d choked on, and a glass of ginger ale. The soda was a nice touch. And though Crews had been too preoccupied to think of taking another pill, the droid never forgot a thing. Such a good droid. It was as if Echo could read his mind. And he did it all without needing any thanks.
On the imager, Javon sat across from McFarland in the back of the car. Crews watched his boy pout as the driver pulled away.
“Echo, fetch me a remote for Javon.”
“Yes, sir.” Echo opened a compartment in his stomach and produced a small remote fob. After fiddling with it a moment to program it for Javon, he presented it to the Colonel.
“Good.”
While Crews waited for them to reach their destination, he used Echo to browse his miscellaneous tasks. He might be able to cross something off before going to bed.
“What’s on our agenda for tomorrow?”
“Would you like me to display it for you, sir?”‘
“I could have done that myself, couldn’t I? Just give me a brief synopsis, no details.”
“Yes, sir. My apologies. You and Congressman Wells have a luncheon, a conference call, and a meeting with the local City Council.”
“Fine.” Crews rolled his eyes at McFarland’s pitiful face staring out the car window on the imager.
“Echo, what’s on my low priority list?”
“Research popular Labor Day vacation spots, hire a new pool man or price having it filled in, and research Detective J.L. Cooper.”
Detective Cooper? Oh, yes. Senator Dawson Cooper’s brother.
“Tell me what you can find on J.L. Cooper. A private detective in Atlanta.”
“Yes, sir. I found three.”
Crews shook his head. Too many people and not enough names. “His brother is Senator Richard Dawson Cooper. And give me the short version.”
“J.L. Cooper lives in northeast Atlanta, postal code 30303. He investigates domestic cases, working from his apartment, and meets all new clients in public places. He has been at this residence for eighteen months, moving there from Walnut Grove, Georgia, where he began his career as a private detective. Before that, he was a lawyer in Atlanta. He moved to Walnut Grove when he was fired and underwent rehabilitation for alcohol abuse. He is most well-known for aiding Hasan Rakhi with the discovery and solution of the fatal glitch in the pop travel teleportation technology. Mr. Cooper is currently a widower after losing his wife in a plane crash eight years ago.”
Not exactly the short version. As Echo rambled on about Mr. Cooper, McFarland and Javon arrived at the vixen’s house.
“Okay, Echo. That’ll do for now.” Crews waved him off and huddled over his bowl. Nibbling on his crackers, carefully to chewing them into tiny bits after his choking scare, he kept his eyes glued on the imager. This test would show Crews where McFarland Wells’ loyalty lied. Things were about to get interesting.
When McFarland knocked, a petite, dark-haired woman answered the door. She had big brown eyes, wore a plain blue frock, and stood in the threshold barefoot with her arms crossed. “McFarland, you’re late, mi amor.”
He greeted the woman in his gentle, deep voice, “Sorry. You look lovely.”
Crews could barely hear the soft-spoken man. “Volume seventy-five percent.”
As Javon stepped up to stand beside McFarland, Crews caught a hint of concern in the girl’s eyes.
The boy should’ve known better than to try and hide anything from him. The Colonel knew all. He had that girl checked out the minute McFarland shook hands with her. Lucinda Ramirez was a paralegal from El Salvador working at an unimportant law firm downtown. Nothing interesting in her background, but nothing to brag about either. Her visa expired soon, and Crews had been putting off dealing with this unpleasantness until it was time for her to leave. She hadn’t told McFarland about it, or she’d already be gone. Then Crews realized the boy might want to marry the wench so she could stay in the country, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. McFarland needed a handpicked wife that would get Congressman Wells where Crews needed him to be.
The girl smiled at McFarland and reached for his hand. “Aww, you’re sweet. I’m a mess. Why don’t you come in? Dinner is getting cold. Who’s this with you? A bodyguard? We don’t need a chaperone.”
He pulled away. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I can’t stay.”
Good boy.
“Why not? What’s going on?” Her forehead wrinkled as her face changed from concerned to fearful.
“He knows. He told me I had to break it off with you.”
That’s right. Level with her. Be strong and direct. A clean break.
She drew her hands to her chest. “What? But why? You said it would be better when you took office.” Her voice quivered.
“He said we have to focus on my next goal.”
“Next goal? But you hate politics. It’s all fake. Full of liars and backstabbers.” She sniffed back a tear.
McFarland nodded toward Javon.
Lucinda sniffed again. A tear spilled and ran down her cheek. She angrily wiped it away. “What? Is he watching right now? To make sure you dump me?”
He nodded and reached a hand up to his lowered face.
Is he crying too? Unbelievable! I may have to put him through some sort of withdrawal, hell week program. He needs to toughen up.
The wench grabbed Javon’s heavy head, yanked it over to her face, and yelled, “Listen here, you selfish old man. You may have put McFarland into office, but I give him life. You hear that? You need to find another pawn. You can’t just go around taking over people’s lives. If you want a puppet, why don’t you build one!”
Crews had had enough. He spoke into the remote fob, “Javon, take McFarland home now.”
Javon removed Lucinda’s hands from his face and grabbed McFarland’s arm.
“Hey! You keep your metal paws off her!” He struggled to get out of Javon’s grip and Lucinda tried to pry the robot’s hand away as well.
Now Crews had to intervene. Pushing a different button, he spoke into the fob and it projected through Javon’s mouth, “McFarland. You must cooperate if you care anything about Lucinda’s safety.”
That straightened the boy right up. “I have to do this, Lucy. You should go back inside.”
“No!” But she took a step back.
“I will never forget you.” McFarland let Javon guide him back to the car.
“Noooo!” Lucinda sobbed and reached out to him.
Before getting in, McFarland stared back at the girl with tears streaming down his face and said one last fatefu
l thing, “I will come back for you someday. I promise.”
Turning to face Javon, he continued with passionate anger in his eyes, speaking through gritted teeth, “Once I pay my debt.”
Alarm bells clanged in Crews’ head. He might have pushed the boy too far. Crews kept a close eye on McFarland in the car as he rode home. His meaty fists clenched and unclenched and his angry stare bore holes into the floor at his feet. That was the problem with strong, silent, sensitive types. One never knew where the line was until one crossed it.
“Echo, call in half a dozen guards and get my electrogun.”
“Yes, sir.”
On the imager, McFarland slowly lifted his head and stared death rays into Javon’s lenses, straight at the Colonel.
Crews’ heart beat faster. He’d never seen such intense emotion from McFarland. Standing up, Crews backed away from the counter. A chill prickled his spine. After two years, he still had no idea what motivated the somber giant. But he recognized a man ready to do anything for love. All McFarland’s actions of the night, the chivalry and dramatics, the tears and threats, clearly indicated a man on the brink of doing something he would regret. This was how a crime of passion evolved. The boy’s emotions controlled him now. They consumed him. He was in that foolish place where men lost their heads and went to extremes. And usually wound up losing everything else too, including the girl.
Grasping for ways to calm the irrational boy down, Crews paced in the kitchen, glancing at McFarland each time he passed the imager. The boy didn’t move, didn’t even blink. What could Crews offer him? He could promise the boy a future with the wench once he became… What? Governor? But he couldn’t. That girl would have too much influence over McFarland, and Crews would be sent packing again. He wondered if he’d ever be able to find a suitable wife that McFarland would accept, now that he’d supposedly experienced true love.
He waved away those thoughts to deal with later. Right now, the Colonel had to think of a way to pacify him.
And he had to be prepared for a fight. They’d be home soon and Wells had murder brewing in his eyes. That peanut brain inside his dinosaur skull was probably hatching how he could torture the Colonel and discretely dispose of the body.
