I mean, who the hell does that?
Good thing they didn’t know we were all heeled and had just left a yard full of stiffs fertilizing the West Docks, or they probably would have decided to take their chances with a nighttime swim.
I figured a little conversation would brighten the mood.
“So. You two used to work together?”
The Cowboy nodded. “Yeah, me and ol’ Poddar go back a ways. Brought down quite a few tags together before he went soft on me.” He grinned at Poddar, who didn’t appear in the mood for levity.
“Now look at him. Fretting over a woman. I told him a pretty slip is a dime a dozen, but Mr. Romantic has to be a one horse rider, if you know what I mean.”
I offered him a gasper. “I do, but not from experience. I take it you don’t have that handicap either.”
He guffawed. “Me? Not in my line of work, pardner. I gotta move with the money. Been all around this wild country of ours. Man can’t wheel and deal while trying to keep one of those…whaddya call ‘em?”
“Relationships.”
“Yeah, those. It’d never work. ‘Sides, there’s only one thing I want from a woman, and it takes me about a minute and a half to get it. Then I’m on to the next thing.”
I blew a casual smoke ring over the waters. “What’s it like out there? You know…Outside.”
The Cowboy puffed on his gasper like it was his last before dying. “You mean beyond the Havens? Wild, brother. The arm of the law don’t go far beyond the Havens, so it’s every man for himself. Lots of roaming marauders, smugglers and scavengers. But there’s a few nice towns too. Even a few nice sized cities. Folks are spreading out in spite of the dangers, if only to get away from the Secret Service and the constant oppression of the United Havens.”
I contemplated that as I smoked. “People really feel the Havens are that bad?”
The Cowboy shrugged. “It’s pretty ugly out there. This place is pretty cut off, so you probably don’t know how bad it is. It took all kinds of tricks to get into this Haven. Even harder to get out. That’s why I’ve been in a rut, because I’m kinda stuck here. Getting the proper clearance to leave is a sonovabitch.”
I glanced at his wrist. “Is that why you don’t have a holoband?”
“That’s right. Haven residents only. Not that I mind. Those things are nothing but a way for the feds to keep tabs on you. I’ll keep my business portable, thank you.” He pulled a thin unit from his pocket. “Does the same job, except I can toss it if things get hot. The info backs up to a private mainframe.”
I tapped my holoband. “You can get a holoband fixed to keep from being tagged. Just costs a pretty penny is all. That’s the thing about tech. No matter what the feds do, there’s always a guy on the outside working to get around it. The smartest eggs are always on the other side of the law.”
“Amen to that, brother.” He scratched Stinker between her ears.
I glared at the dog. “Did you have to bring the mutt? I mean, this is gonna be hard enough to do without the canine companionship, unless you’re planning to attack the joint with fleas.”
The mutt came with the Cowboy in lieu of a horse, I guess. I knew that already, but I was in a foul mood from my recent few hours which had left me blackmailed, wounded, thoroughly humiliated, reeling from some pretty potent absinthe, and almost smoked by a shadowy inhuman who left a mob of gremlins doing demolition work in my head.
“Stinker don’t like your tone.” Rob’s voice was low and raspy. “And she don’t like the word mutt neither. She’d like an apology. Real quick-like, too, or she’ll get offended. You won’t like that.”
“She is a mutt, for crying out loud.”
Then I noticed his hand resting on the butt of his Colt pistol. Normally I’d put the Mean Ol’ Broad against another heater in a heartbeat, but the Cowboy actually was a pretty quick draw. I wasn’t exactly feeling a spring in my step right about then either.
“All right. I’m sorry, ok? We friends now?” I reached out to pet ol’ Stinker. I had to yank back real quick when she snarled and tried to take my hand off in a flash of blurred fangs. Rob brayed like a pregnant mule while the ungrateful mutt continued to snarl her hatred of me.
“Nice.” I hated dogs as a rule. You’d have thought they’d have gone extinct like most everything else, but for some reason people treated them better than their own kids even when the Cataclysm upended most of the world. I'd thought German Shepards were supposed to be a decent enough breed, but I'd already seen Stinker's murderous streak.
Fortunately the ferry had stopped, saving Stinker and the Cowboy from a nice swim to shore. We got off with the other passengers and walked toward the twenty-foot walls topped with laser wire. A massive door slid open, and three gorillas shuffled out.
Ok, they weren’t real gorillas. They were androids. Standard military sentinel versions, although I’d never seen larger models in my life. The shortest guard still topped me by head and shoulders. They were armored like walking tanks.
The lead lug nodded. “Good to have you back, sir.”
It took a moment to realize he addressed me as ‘sir’. Good thing I’d mastered the poker face. I straightened my shoulders and gave him my best stern look.
“Thank you. I’ll dispense with the pleasantries, because time isn’t on my side. I need to see the Savant.”
That sounded like a jingle-brained request if I ever heard one, but it was what Hunter had told me, and was my only clue to finding out where Selene's missing leg was. The burly guard didn’t even blink.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.”
My heart sank. If I couldn’t get in, I’d never find out the answers I didn’t really want to know. Which meant I’d have to return empty-handed, and somehow I didn’t think that would sit well with Selene, who wanted her leg back, or Poddar, who wanted his dame back. Or Rob, who wanted to shoot things, or Stinker, who wanted to bite me.
The guard continued. “I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll take you to see the Warden. Are these…individuals with you?”
“Indeed, my good man. Special agents assigned to the case. The dog, too. Shall we?”
The android paused as though to let me know my bullshit wasn’t beyond his programming, but turned and gestured to the other guards, who fell in behind us as we marched through the gatelodge. After surrendering our weapons, the door shut loudly, cutting us off from the outside world.
We were locked inside the Fortress.
I got claustrophobic the moment I entered. I think the place was built with towering concrete walls just to make the folks inside feel as insignificant as possible. After a creepy walk down dull, dimly lit hallways, we got to the Warden’s office. The lead gorilla opened the door. A sweet-looking brunette looked up from entering data on a tablet.
I cleared my throat and spoke in my most authoritative voice. “I’m here to see the Warden.”
“You’re seeing her right now.” She gave me the once over with a critical eye. At closer glance I saw she was a synoid. The face was too doll-like, the eyes just a tad on the glassy side. Made sense. Why put humans at risk at a meat locker like the Fortress?
She pursed her synthetic lips. “You look like a walking stiff, and that’s not gonna cut it. Not tonight. I heard you’re still dealing with memory loss, but you’d better get your act together. The Savant has this place more of a madhouse than normal, and my guards may not be enough if things get out of hand.”
I pretended to know what the hell she was gabbing about. “Ok, Warden. Why don’t you just tell me who this chump is, and why he should matter to me?”
She pulled on a protective vest and checked her mech-guns while she answered. The B52s, I noted. An improved version of the garbage the goons at the Docks sported, except modified for synoids, which made them far more accurate.
“Glenn Faraday is his real name. He masterminded a plot to destroy this Haven, and almost got away with it. A scientific and mathematical genius, he is rumored t
o possess paranormal powers as well. Though if that’s true they haven’t spirited him out the cell he’s been in since he got here. As to why he should matter to you…” she looked at me almost in a pitying way. “You’re the one who took him down.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more bizarre. Still, I supposed I shouldn’t have been shocked. I had figured by then my strings had been pulled from the moment Ms. Kilby stepped through my door. Just had to find out who was the puppeteer.
She gestured. “Come on.”
We walked out the office and joined a squad of guards who kept Poddar and Rob company. One of them handed me my heaters back. I suppose the surprise showed on my face as I strapped them back on.
“Special circumstances,” the Warden said. “And it’s not as if you can hurt any of us.”
How true.
They all fell in as we practically jogged down more dark hallways. A noise like thunder grew louder as we drew near. When the large steel doors at the end of the hall opened, I found out what it was.
We entered the main prisoner wing. Chaos washed over us in the form of wild screaming, chanting, and a downpour of confetti from torn papers. The prisoners shook the walls, roaring in a swell of pure hate while guards in riot gear lined up, preparing to join the concert with some head banging of their own.
“It’s been like this since the day started.” The Warden yelled over the noise, walking as if at a country picnic. “Nothing we do seems to have any effect.”
“What’s causing them to act like this?”
“The Savant.”
I should’ve known.
When we entered the segregation wing, the doors shut behind us and muted the noise somewhat.
“This is as far as we go. He refuses to talk to anyone except the person he wants to see.”
“And that would be…?”
“You really have to ask? Last cell down. Be careful. His most dangerous weapon has always been his mind.”
I turned the corner and took the long walk down to the bing ward. Prison cells always made me uneasy, but maybe that was because I’d seen the view from the inside out a couple of times. I tried to focus on the moment instead.
Dr. Faraday waited for me in the last cell. Only a few humming lasers separated me from the most dangerous man in the city. I figured I should have had a memory jolt or something when I clapped eyes on him.
I figured right. Because I’d just seen him before. In that crazy flashback I had when I got my egg cracked by the Bo staff. Dr. Faraday was the same labcoat who had me hooked up all that equipment. The same equipment which had exploded around us, throwing me into dark choppy waters...
I looked into his eyes. Deep intelligence and calculated cunning stared back at me.
He smiled. “At last. You look well, Mr. Trubble. A bit haggard, but well. Do you know who I am?”
“Not exactly. But I just recently had a gonzo hallucination from getting cracked over the head with a Bo staff. Long story, but the main thing is you were in it. Bad part is I have a few memory issues, so I can’t remember much about it. And now that I think about it, you’re probably the reason why.”
His smile only widened. “You don’t remember me, do you? Fascinating. I wasn’t sure if the process would hold up. Your unexpected acts of violence forced me to think on my feet, as it were. I see you survived the river. I wasn’t in the proper condition to see so at the time. You know, since you had just tried to murder me.”
That rattled me more than I could afford to show. I kept gabbing to keep him from noticing. “So you’re telling me you’re the one who messed up my memory? You figure on tipping your mitts on what that was all about? Lemme guess—something to do with this leg business and the shadowy goon with the mental powers.”
“It sounds like you’ve been watching too many science fiction movies, Mr. Trubble. Do you think this is the standard confrontation where the villain tells the hero his plans so they can be swiftly unraveled? If it were, then our positions would be reversed. Tell me—do you believe in New Haven?”
I was about sick of that question. “Should I?”
“Indeed you should. It is what has made you a new man. This city is your salvation.”
He gazed around as though he could see it beyond the walls. “It’s almost…magic. All of these people. Going about with no idea of how things work. What deeds they did to gain entry. Just like you, Mr. Trubble. What sort of demons visit you when it’s late at night and you can’t sleep?
“Can’t say I have that problem, Mack. Booze puts me to sleep just fine.”
“Always a glib response from you, isn’t it?” He had the nerve to actually look pityingly at me. “What a cloud of unanswered questions must hang over your head. What is it like to have your memories suddenly vanish? How do you go on when you don’t know where you’ve been?”
I stepped closer. “Look, I’ve had about enough of your endless jawing. Don’t spin word circles around my head and pretend the dizziness is a favor. You erased my memory? Fine. Either you’ll tell me why or you won’t. But you got about five seconds to tell me something worthwhile before I rotate my heels and breeze on outta here.”
He sat down on the stool in the cell. “You know, the thing about this city is it’s remarkably unique—the only Haven that was built after the Cataclysm. Designed to provide every comfort for its inhabitants, every necessity to sustain one’s existence. I know, because I was one of the designers.”
Now that was a kick in the head. “You?”
He chuckled lightly. “Yes, I helped bring this place to fruition. The chief architect, to be exact. It was to be the Haven to set the standard, to raise the bar of excellence for the others to imitate.”
He looked away as though mourning the loss of those lofty ambitions. “Now look at it. It’s a cesspool. A den of thieves and murderers, schemers and predators who launder memories like dirty money. The experiment has failed. I tried to warn them. I tried to show them the way. But those damned Gestalt thugs infiltrated every aspect of New Haven’s infrastructure. So the creator is imprisoned in his own creation. Now, less gentle measures are being taken.”
“Experiment? What are you talking about? Your goon with the mental powers? You’re using him as your patsy while you sit pretty in the cooler, is that it?”
“You’re talking about the prototype. The New Man, as he is called. He is a tool, correct. Just as you are. You simply cannot see the hand which guides you or him. If you only knew the truth, you’d be just as desperate as me to escape this place. Are there any thoughts in your mind I did not orchestrate? Who exactly do you think you are?”
“Last time I checked, I was Mick Trubble –gambler, skirt chaser, hard liquor drinker, and Troubleshooter from time to time. What I don’t happen to be is behind bars. That would be you, remember?”
He tapped his fingers together. “Oh, but you are imprisoned just the same as me. You don’t even realize the reason why you’re here, do you?”
“You mean in New Haven? Does it matter? Either you’re a Haven resident or you take your chances Outside fighting for survival. I’m here because I want to be.”
“Truly?” The Savant’s eyes crinkled with mirth. “I see my memory implants are still locked firmly in place. The world beyond the Havens isn’t quite as bad as advertised. But I was speaking more specifically of you. Why are you here, Mr. Trubble?”
A bead of sweat slowly slid down my temple. “You’re the one who has all of the answers, right? You’re the one who damaged my memory. So you tell me.”
His tone turned sympathetic. “You have to understand I had no choice. When one of the Secret Service’s top assassins is sent to kill you, drastic measures are demanded. Even if those measures require removing his memories and providing him with new ones.”
Chapter 10: Savant Says
My mind spun in loopy circles. I wish I could’ve claimed it was a hangover. “Wait. I know you’re not saying—”
“Your real name is
not Mick Trubble. You are not a resident of this Haven. Those are implanted memories I am responsible for.” He looked closely at my face. “Now you know the truth. Don’t think this is a gift I give you. Knowledge might be power in other places, but here…” his eyes flicked around his cell. “Here, knowledge is prison. Or worse.”
“It’s not possible.”
Dr. Faraday jabbed a finger at me. “You have no idea what’s possible. That’s the whole point of memory reprogramming. It’s how New Haven stays out of the reach of the Secret Service, and any other form of law and order. You have to understand the purpose of my memory experiments was to aid those crippled by trauma; to coax them back into society without the burdensome and crippling memories of war, rape, murder, and abuse.”
I crossed my arms. “Sorry to interrupt your monologue, but what does that have to do with me, Doc?”
“Everything. You have to understand the history before you see the full picture. You see, I was had an association with the same people as yourself for a time.”
“You were with the Service?”
“The Secret Service is the arm of the United Havens. I was a top-level official for the research and development department of the UH. I saw firsthand how corrupted and utterly useless their dominion had grown. So I defected. I diverted their attention long enough to gain access to the Tunnels so I could hack into the transit system. Once I was able to commandeer a shuttle, I recovered my work and crippled their system. By the time they undid the damage, I was long gone. Eventually I joined up with other refugees and exiles, a union which in time gave birth to this Haven.”
I shook my head. “I hear the UH doesn’t exactly take too kindly to their top heads calling it quits. Usually ends up in a dead body or two.”
He nodded bitterly. “You’ve heard correctly. In my arrogance I felt my newfound friends were both wealthy and powerful enough to protect me. I was right, but ignorant of the price involved. For I had foolishly allied myself with the organization known as the Gestalt, and they had plans for me.”
The Troubleshooter: New Haven Blues Page 8
