Liquid Cool

by Austin Dragon

  The VP smiled ever so diplomatically, and the other guys looked on quietly.

  “The street detectives are doing the work and have the answers. Why again, won’t they be there?” I asked.

  “We’ll relay your discomfort to Mr. Run-Time,” the VP said, as she unflipped her mobile and typed.

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as we walked into the swanky executive conference room of the Metro Police on their ground level, I looked for them. Not a police officer in silver and black to be found. Only a sea of police majors, captains, lieutenants, and deputies. There were even a few ranks I never saw before. I bit my lip and stayed quiet as I was led by Run-Time’s people.

  Then the Feds came in, dressed in black suits, with a group as large as the waiting police. Then, there was a commotion and in came the Mayor with an even bigger entourage. I found the whole thing annoying.

  As the three groups approached each other, I noticed Run-Time standing in the back with one of his other VPs, the Lebanese one, and a few other people. The greeting of the police, Feds, and the Mayor’s group was something out of a sitcom and took forever. When they were done, the accusations could commence.

  “There were no Feds on the scene,” one of the federal agents said.

  “We have on good authority that the identified kidnapper of this girl was purposely allowed to escape the scene,” a police deputy said.

  “Feds allowed a kidnapper to get away? Why would we do that? Anyway, we were not on that scene.”

  “Our officers in the field say there were Feds on the scene.”

  “We were not there?”

  “So, my officers are liars?”

  “We’re saying it wasn’t the Federal Police, and we don’t know who was there that you claim was there.”

  The back-and-forth was becoming more heated.

  “What are we planning to do to rescue this girl?” I asked out loud.

  The West Indian shot a look at me, and the entire conference room went quiet. Everybody was staring at me.

  “Do I need to repeat the question?” I asked.

  “No, you don’t,” said one of the police majors as he approached. “Who exactly are you, and why are you here?”

  “I’m the consultant on the case for the mother.”

  “Consultant? You mean like a pretend detective?”

  “There’s nothing pretend about a kidnapped child.”

  “Do you have any children, Mr. Cruz?”

  “So, you do know who I am. Then you know the answer to that question. I’m sorry, but does one have to have children to want children not to be kidnapped, or when they are, for them to be rescued.”

  “I got six, Mr. Cruz, so I think I can empathize with the situation a hell of a lot more than you.”

  “Do you empathize more than the mother who has been driving herself crazy, trying to find her daughter, because you are doing nothing?”

  “Nothing? My officers are doing plenty!”

  “Then why aren’t they in this room, instead of you!”

  “Because I’m the boss, Mr. Cruz.”

  I was about to snap back at him when a hand rested on my shoulder. It was Run-Time.

  “Mr. Cruz has identified the kidnapper.”

  The revelation caused an uproar as officers and agents drew near.

  “Who is the kidnapper,” a Fed asked.

  “This is still our case,” Chief Hub said to him and he turned to me.

  “I can tell you the name, but there’s a problem,” I said.

  “What problem is that?”

  “He’s a Fed C.I.” I could feel Run-Time’s death stare as I was playing with political fire—telling half-truths. But if it got them to act, I would never repeat Carol’s revelation.

  “What did you say? We don’t have any C.I.s working that area and none that would kidnap a girl. That is a fat lie,” a Fed said.

  “Red Rabbit is the gang leader’s name.”

  “Red Rabbit?” a police lieutenant laughed.

  “As the law enforcement of the city of Metropolis, you surely know about animal gangs and their increasing presence and violence in parts of the city.” That quieted the chuckling. “This Red Rabbit is extremely dangerous, and has killed multiple people,” I said. “And we know where he is.”

  “Chief Hub,” Run-Time said calmly. “We’re here, because we believe this information should be given to you personally, so a clear, effective attack and rescue plan can be formulated.”

  Chief Hub nodded. “Exactly.” He turned to his deputies. “Get a white board in here.” He looked at me then at the Feds.

  “We sure as hell don’t have any C.I.s who are animal gang members in rabbit masks,” the lead Fed said.

  “Then why did the kid say that?” a police captain asked.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Chief Hub walked up to Run-Time, who remained at my side. “Run-Time, thank you for bringing the information to us. You can let Ms. Num know we’ll take it from here, but she shouldn’t have unrealistic hopes.”

  “I understand.”

  Chief Hub looked at me. “Run-Time, this is the first time I met a friend of yours that I strongly disliked. But, there is a first for everything.”

  I chose not to respond.

  I remembered the man when we first came in, because he was the only one wearing dark glasses. He was obviously some agent type from the comm-device in his ear, but he wasn’t standing with the cops, and he was there before the Feds and the Mayor and his people came in. Who was he?

  Chief Hub was getting ready to scribble on his white board when the room began to shake, and the red emergency lights flashed. That same lone agent man held up his hands and said, “Please be calm ladies and gentleman. There is no danger here.”

  No danger? The entire building was shaking. Monolith towers were the musclebound, steroid-fed version of skyscrapers. Earthquakes didn’t shake them. They were built to withstand an asteroid hit or nuclear blast. Police One was shaking, and then we all saw it from the window—a massive shape was descending from the sky.

  Every cop, agent, and aide was on their mobiles as the spaceship stopped its descent to hover above the Police One and City Hall towers.

  That man walked up to the Mayor and showed him what looked like a badge. He showed it to Chief Hub and the lead Fed, too. Then, we all waited. People were looking at each other, but the Mayor stood silent and still with his eyes fixed on the door.

  They came in—Interpol. Back in the day, the International Crime Police Organization (they dropped the Criminal from their name after a major scandal) was always handicapped, because they could never supersede the authority of any country and had to be asked in. But when humans launched off Earth to populate space stations and lunar colonies, Interpol became the Interspace Police Organization, and somehow, their authority superseded any local, state, or national authority. We had hovervehicles; they had real spaceships. We had lasers; they could vaporize your building with a laser blast from orbit.

  They were all dressed in white suit uniforms and identified themselves to the Mayor, Chief Hub, and the Fed agent-in-charge. The led Interpol man talked quietly with the three of them for a moment and then stepped back.

  Chief Hub stepped forward and, with a displeased look, said to the room, “We have been informed by Interpol that the principals involved in this case fall into their jurisdiction, and as such, we will cease all operations involving this matter.”

  “Meaning what?” I asked out loud, and all eyes were on me again.

  “Meaning what I said,” Hub replied, angrily.

  “We have a kidnapped girl or have you forgotten!”

  The Interpol man stepped up. “We have that under control, but more importantly, we’re in the middle of a major operation involving thousands of agents here on Earth and Up-Top at the highest of security levels. We’re dealing with the safeguarding of billions of lives, not simply one person.”

 
“Says who?” I asked.

  Now the Interpol guy was mad at me. “Says the planet Earth.”

  “The planet Earth all convened and gave you the authority to forsake a kidnapped girl?”

  “Mr. Cruz, the real world is so much more complex than black-and-white absolutists, like you, want to accept.”

  “Oh, so you know who I am, too. I wonder what that’s all about, then? I know you came down here in your fancy spaceship, but on planet Earth, we don’t let child kidnappers go scot-free. If you like these animal gangsters so much, take them and all the other criminal scum off the planet, and they can all live with you Up-Top.”

  “Mr. Cruz, I’m didn’t come here to debate you, and I have no reason at all to acknowledge your existence.”

  “It is true. The Feds were right. The Red Rabbit kidnapper terrorist is not their C.I.; he’s yours. That’s why you’re here. Why are you coming down to our planet to plant kidnapping terrorists here, spaceman?”

  My comments caused an uproar in the room.

  “Terrorist, Mr. Cruz?” the Mayor jumped in. “I can see you’re very passionate about this victim, but let’s be respectful until the facts are in.”

  “The facts are in. The kidnapper is named Red Rabbit, and he’s an Interpol informant. That’s why they’re here to stop us. And the Red Rabbit is a terrorist.”

  “He is certainly not,” the Interpol man snapped back at me.

  “He certainly is.”

  “You have proof of that?” he asked.

  “Firing at medical clinics with innocent civilians from hovercars, using laser cannons is a terrorist act.” I stepped closer. “Oh, you didn’t know there was a witness to that incident. Yes, I was there. What about lobbing bombs off of tower rooftops? That’s terrorism, too.”

  The Interpol man walked right up to me. “By being in this room, you are subject to the Secrets Act, like everyone else. This is a classified meeting, and if you reveal it to anyone…anyone…you will be arrested, convicted, and imprisoned. Unlike city and federal law, we can and will confiscate all your legacy properties. Are we making sense to you now?”

  “I bet if the victim was an Up-Top girl, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Are we making sense to you now, Mr. Cruz?” he asked again.

  “He understands completely,” Run-Time said for me.

  The Interpol man and I glared at each other. I decided then and there that I hated him.

  “I’m going to the men’s room,” I said angrily.

  “You do that and cool off.” Chief Hub was standing next to the Interpol man now. “As I said before, you should never have been here.”

  I stormed out of the room as they all watched me in conversation. As soon as I came out of the door, I stopped and let it close after me. Then I ran, not for the men’s room, but for the elevators.

  Chapter 47

  Mrs. Easy Chair Charlie

  I HAD BEEN A BUSY BEE. Besides being in Mad Heights, there was one other place I had been that they didn’t know about. Before I went to the Soldier of Fortune Meet-Up meeting, I had made one other stop—back to the Free City apartment of Mrs. Easy Chair Charlie.

  My day may have ended with gangster punks (Mad Heights), but it began with them, too. I strolled into Free City, and I knew the Free City gangs would try to jack me up again and no business card would stop them this time. As I approached the tower of Easy Chair’s widow, they appeared. It was the same kids; one after another they walked to me.

  “It’s the detective again,” one said.

  “I didn’t think he was dumb enough to come back a second time,” said another.

  I was in no mood.

  “Get away from me,” I said.

  “That’s it, Mr. Detective? You got no more fake business cards to show us?”

  I really was in no mood for this.

  “Guess where I’m going after this?” I asked.

  “Why?” one of the punks responded.

  “Mad Heights.”

  They all laughed. “You’re not going to no Mad City, you square.”

  “When you go to a place like that, you have to be prepared to do what needs to be done. I should practice.”

  Instantly, the expressions changed on their faces. They knew where I was going.

  The first mistake was drawing their weapons on me. The second mistake they made was not firing at me immediately. I pulled my omega-gun the same time they did, but I didn’t hesitate. My mind was set to shoot them, not kill them—they were still young enough that they had a chance to get on the right path in life; however, I would torture them, viciously. Medium-yield plasma discharge rounds. I needed something to practice on to see their effectiveness. The mayhem commenced. Lucky for them, it was not set to kill; unlucky for them, they would be showered with burning, excruciating painful rounds. The punks were all reduced to whimpering wrecks, bundles on the ground. They cried and begged for me to stop.

  “She hired us!”

  “Who?”

  “She told us to stop you from coming up to her place, no matter what!” one of the punks yelled at me.

  “Who?!”

  As I approached Easy Chair’s place, people were watching me from the windows. I couldn’t tell if they approved or not of what I did to their resident juvenile delinquents.

  Then I saw them. Two high-tech robo-dogs optically targeted me, their metal teeth extended out, and they raced at me. You never wanted to be attacked by a robo-dog, and these were pit-bull models, which were among the most lethal (along with Doberman and German Shepherd models).

  Every city, even supercities like Metropolis, were inseparable from their automation and machines—never use the word “robot” around my fiancée, Dot. Machines and technology were built to last, and last a long time, and that’s exactly what they did. Even the technology infrastructure of the nouveau-rich Peacock Hills had existed for centuries. Everything only looked new, including the robots you saw. But these robot dogs were straight-out-of-the-box new. They were genuinely something to behold. The flawless, shiny-silver metal parts, the supple plastic connector pieces, the blue-metal, razor teeth and retractable front-paw claws. You wouldn’t find such beautiful mechanical specimens in any tower mansion in uber-rich Silicon Dunes, but the two killer machines were coming at me in low-life, no-money, Free City.

  The robot pit bulls were fast! I was faster. The beauty of my gun was that I could switch its setting with a flick of a thumb. I shot them, and the robots wobbled around and then blew up. I shielded myself from the debris with my coat and angrily kicked the door, but it was already bolted back. There I stood, locked out. I sat on the ground next to the apartment door as I took out my mobile.

  The video-phone answered, and Mrs. Easy Chair Charlie was glaring at me. “How did you get my number?”

  “Open the door!”

  “No!”

  “Where did you get the money to buy expensive security robot dogs, pit-bull models, like that?”

  “My life insurance! I told you that before.”

  “Oh, so we’re sticking with that story?”

  “It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

  “What was Easy going to acquire that was going give him such a payday that he was going to get you and him Up-Top?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “People who can afford those kind of robots shouldn’t be in Free City. I’m going to report you to the government. Free City is for people without legacies and no money. You have enough money to buy not one, but two, fancy security robot dogs you would find in Silicon Dunes.” I stood up from the ground.

  “No, don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what? Stand up from the ground or report you to city services?”

  “Why don’t you go away? Leave me alone.”

  “Seems like I care more about your husband than you do!”

  “That is not true!”

  “Jumping in with his murderers.”

 
; “That’s not true!” She suddenly broke down and sobbed. “Will you please go away and leave me alone?”

  “When you tell me what Easy was into that got him killed that night, I will.”

  “He wasn’t killed. He was shot by the police righteously.”

  “I don’t how it was done yet, but he was murdered. I don’t know if they shot up the police and then threw him out there, or what, but I’ll find out how. And when I do, I’ll say you were in on it.”

  “That’s not true! I had nothing to do with it!”

  “You’re spending your dead husband’s life insurance, even though to this day, you never even filed the claim. Where’s the money coming from?!”

  She erupted into a bawling mess.

  “I’m not leaving here, until you let me in and tell me what Easy was into. I got past your Free City gang punks you hired to keep me out, and I got past your robot dogs. You think hiding in there crying is going to stop me?”

  She disappeared from the video screen on my mobile. In a minute or two, I heard the locks unlocking, and the door was opening.

  That’s where I went before Mad Heights. And I went to an even more dangerous place when I ran out of Police One, instead of the men’s room. I wasn’t eager to do so, and I surely wasn’t brave. It was my OCD-self, locking on one singular purpose, and pushing every other thought and fear out of my mind—I would rescue that girl, and no deranged punk in a rabbit mask would stop me.

  Chapter 48

  Red

  THE TWO HULKS STOOD at their posts, smoking drug joints. I stood about a couple feet from them, pretending to smoke an e-cigarette.

  There really wasn’t any such thing as a small building in Metropolis, but this was a twenty-story auxiliary corner building, and the only light on the street was the tall lamp the three of us were standing under with an accompanying drizzle of rain.

  The first bald man must have been 350 pounds, easy. Plenty of fat, but unfortunately, plenty of muscle, too. His leathery face had pierced eyebrows, a pierced lower lip, a pierced nose, and ears with multiple piercings. He was covered in tattoos, right up to an imaginary line under his nose, and was topped off with his glowing midnight blue shades. His outfit was all black except for the bright gold buckle he held with his joint-free muscled hand.