by Ryan Burnett
I could have never imagined the student union looking like this. Tables overturned; electronics ripped from their wall sockets. Shifty eyed people ran along the outskirts frantically looking for anything they could steal. Some were busy ripping the wiring out of the walls
to collect in wide coils around their shoulders or waist. The food court was overrun and the employees lay dead behind the counters or splayed across the table. Their bodies completely stripped of clothing. It seemed as if the foodcourt had been the center of a deadly multi man melee. 20 or 30 people still fought, a few of which were literally battling atop the bodies of those who had already fallen.
Some bled profusely and others had fingers bent at awkward angles that made it apparent that the digit was broken. Others who had managed to grab hold of some form of improvised weapon were trying to exit the free for all while clutching trash bags stuffed full of protein slabs or bread and various other items. Bottled water seemed to be a prized commodity as I saw
one student bash another student with an over laden backpack to claim a twenty four pack of the clear and common liquid as his prize. He let out a roar of triumph as he stood over the other student's once pretty and petite frame. Clutching Tyra's hand all the tighter I ran towards
the emergency stare case desperately hoping that it would be empty and that the private class VRN network of Professor Yodson's classroom's (and more importantly the door with a lock on it) would offer a chance to get Tommy some help and the opportunity to find some answers. The cold grip of panic was beginning to resurge with a fury I had never felt before and as I ran I could feel my head get lighter and my tenuous grip on consciousness begin to slowly slip away.
Chapter 10
Marcus
12: 41:19
Rob and I sat down at the table in my apartment; the now unlocked briefcase between us. We silently passed a lit joint back and forth as we contemplated the container. It was almost as if we were subconsciously bracing ourselves for whatever new shock it held inside.
If a sucker punch was coming, I welcomed the luxury of rolling with it instead of taking it on the chin. The last of the acid had finally worked its way out of my system and we had both had the opportunity to sleep through any remnants of a hangover. My curiosity wouldn’t allow me to leave the case alone for long. Despite the hectic night I had experienced it had taken every fiber of willpower in me to restrain myself from opening the case last night. I had only managed to resist because I had wanted to approach this job with a relatively clear head, and even with that resolve within me I still had some difficulty resting last night simply knowing that this mystery was waiting for me. However, now it was finally time to open the case and discover what secrets it held.
I laid the briefcase on the table and opened it up revealing a snub-nosed revolver laid on top of a photograph and a dossier of files. There was also what looked at first glance to be some form of passport. Rob eagerly reached in to grab the revolver. I walked back to my room and grabbed a small box of ammunition that I handed Rob.
“This saves us a stop. It wouldn't feel right if you were the only one packing heat.” Rob said. I nodded my agreement; I was actually surprised he hadn't brought a piece of his own. One would think someone of Rob's size would prefer to handle things up close and personally, but I had seen him on the shooting range. The man shot like it was something he was born to do. I still had faith that this job could be completed without any shots being fired but when faith ran out it
was nice to have a gun or two just in case.
While Rob checked the chamber and aimed the pistol at the far wall, trying to get a feel for the weight and balance of the weapon, I looked at the small booklet that sat atop the photograph and other papers. Upon closer inspection it seemed to be a set of federal clearance credentials. I skimmed over them, they appeared to be made out to a John Smith. An alias so unsubtle and vague that red flags automatically raised in my head. I looked for some words to identify what it was actually for until I caught sight of a section near the bottom of the booklet’s second page. It saw the words “P.I. Agent “underneath a bar code.
“Holy crap man I think we have a detective license here! It's like we're the real thing now. Big timers!” I almost shouted as my mind began to race with possibilities; my joyous excitement bubbling out of me as if my mood were champagne. The security around a sealed off crime scene was normally maintained by a patrol of public safety drones around the perimeter. Having a valid scannable license could get you right past the autonomous sentries. I also knew that these things worked wonders for getting extra information from your average Samaritan. You had just enough
sway to get a few extra answers but none of the lies that seemed to manifest whenever law enforcement was involved. I would need a whole week just to dream up all the most profitable and ludicrous uses for this baby once the job was done.
“No shit. Those things are hard to get man. A lot of tests and shit. I hear the digital certificates are even harder to counterfeit. Do you think it will scan?” Rob replied all the while holding his pistol out and closing one eye to sight along the barrel. I sincerely hoped he had the safety on.
Last thing I needed was a new hole in my wall or ceiling. Not to mention a potentially dead neighbor. The ones I currently had stayed relatively quiet and had yet to call the authorities on me, despite the plethora of wild shit that they must have inevitable have seen or heard coming from this room. That by itself made them alright in my book.
I felt the detail in the paper and looked carefully at the engraved insignia in the background. Trying to catch any stray etch marks or inconsistent ink patterns. Everything felt right. The lettering didn't smudge or look like it was printed on by a cheap copier. Even when I
held it up to the light all of the pages looked to be cut from the same type of paper. Even the embossing and serials showed all the way through on both sides.
“Not only do I think this will scan Rob....I think this thing is legit.” I said, a sense of wonder in my voice. I felt almost as if I had unwrapped a candy bar and found out I had won a ten million dollar grand prize.”
“Like legit, legit? Sick! What else is in there” Rob said as I saw him flick the safety on the gun and then tuck it into his pants. I shrugged and looked at the other papers in the briefcase. I handed the bottom half of the papers to Rob and took the top half for myself
and began to look over them. In my stack the first was a cover sheet that simply read Alexander Sitavi. Underneath it there was a photo of him. The picture looked like a high school yearbook photo. In it he had short neatly trimmed brunette hair and slim angular features, bright
and alert eyes, and he was smiling while looking at something just off screen. Odds are this was nothing at all what the kid actually looked like now but it was something to go off of at least. Something about the kid's face seemed familiar but I really couldn't narrow down what
it was. I also couldn't tell if the fact that I almost seemed to recognize him was a good thing or a bad thing.
It meant that he had a distinctive style that could make him easier to track down but it also meant that he could be involved in a wide range of insane endeavors several types of which it wasn't wise to go around asking too many questions about. Before I could turn to the next page Rob spoke up again. “Get a load of this DUI, DUI, Drug Possession, Paraphernalia,
Possession with the intent to distribute. This guy has an arrest record longer than this entire neighborhood all put together...and not a single conviction. Talk about having a good lawyer.”
I grunted my agreement while turning the page which gave a list of physical characteristics. Height six foot two inches. Weight one hundred and sixty five pounds. Known hang outs were Club Escape, The Axis Bar, and Club Pangea. I turned the page again and saw a list of
traffic violation and the dates of unpaid traffic tickets.
All the rest of the sheets including Rob's seemed to be nothing more than the laundry list of crimes th
at he had never truly paid for. I couldn't tell if I was angry at his disregard for the law or jealous that he seemed to live such a charmed life. I was never the one to toe the line and do anything just because an authority figure told me too. But there was a certain finesse to breaking the law that one developed an appreciation for. I wasn't an advocate of chaos just for
redefining the rules under the right conditions to the benefit of all …or maybe just to the detriment of none. Regardless it appeared Alexander didn't care about any of that though...and why should he? When apparently he had been dealt a hand full of get out of jail free cards?
“You wanna swap stacks Rob?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
I handed him my stack of papers and I took his which I didn't bother to read. I didn't need to know the total extent of his crimes. I had already gotten the point. I waited for Rob to look over the photo and the other basic information for a few minutes. It wasn't long before Rob spoke up again, “Ok so we know we are looking for now. What's our next move?”
“I have an idea. You asked before whether these credentials will scan or not right?” I asked
“Yeah” Rob replied
“Well I think there is only one way to find out.” I said with a grin.
With that I retreated to the back of my room and changed into a pair of slacks and another sports jackets that didn't smell like a mixture of dance club sweat and marijuana smoke. I made sure to transfer my gun to my new ensemble and to tuck the detective license into an inside
pocket.
“Let's catch the monorail downtown.” I said.
“Cool. Just let me straighten up first “with that Rob disappeared into my bathroom for all of 20 minutes before he emerged looking like a totally new person. Refreshed and ready for the day as opposed to the half-awake slouch who had spent the night crashed out on a couch. ”Let’s roll” he said
We headed out the door and began the walk towards the rail station. Armed and
clutching on to the hope that each step was bringing us ever closer to a monstrous pay off.
When we had departed the monorail in the middle of a downtown I started to steer us towards Club Pangea, only making a short detour at a convenience station to grab some
protein slabs cooked up in their grease pits. The things were horrible for you, and they couldn’t even begin to compare to what you could get at Orion’s, but they were so cheap and they got the job done.
A part of me wished I had eaten at Orion's before making the journey out here, but the next time I showed my face there I wanted to be able to show off the fruits of my labor.
Also a meal prepared by Xavier himself was more than enough motivation to help me finish this case as soon as possible. I wolfed down the tasty fried balls as we approached the club.
Club Pangea had a completely different desolate vibe (as did the rest of the street) in the
illuminating light of day. It was almost like waking up in the morning from a one night stand and finding the lady who had ignited such passion in you only hours before had somehow metamorphosed into a goblinoid creature who had managed to steal your dignity and most of
the covers at some point during the night. There was a police presence their but just as I expected the majority of the security was composed of public safety drones. The two police officers sat one at each exit calmly lounging, while the drones went about their task of patrolling the taped off structure.
Standard Public Safety Drones consisted of a spherical with internal compartments that usually housed canisters of riot gas or Taser electrodes. They were kept aloft by horizontal rotors and hiding from them was extremely difficult as they were outfitted with thermal scanners. They were the police department’s bread and butter. Non-lethal, impersonal, and highly efficient “peace keeping” machines. When they swarmed an area en masse one usually had only 2 options. Give up peacefully or be painfully incapacitated until the actual officers arrived. In recent years the cops had gotten a little trigger happy on calling these floating killjoy’s in. It seemed in recent days potential witnesses would rather try and flee the scene of a crime rather than risk one or more of those things glitching out and giving you a face full of Tazer. Personally I felt that made them pretty counter-productive, but unfortunately for the general public I have never been consulted in regards to police policy.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, and proceeded to walk right up to the one at the front entrance. He had tan skin but was definitely of Caucasian descent. He had blacked hair shaped in the typical square military haircut. He was muscular but had more than a bit of a gut. I would guess he was somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s. He seemed a bit gloomy about having to waste the day here babysitting drones, deep down he was probably one of those gung-ho types eager to hit the streets and dole out “justice”. I called out a greeting to him trying to sound as formal and authoritative as possible, “Good day officer, would you mind standing aside so I can begin my investigation?” The police officer somehow managed to give me an apprising stare, looking me up and down, all without losing his look of boredom and contempt.
“HQ didn’t send word about any investigation on this scene today. Whose leg are you trying to pull here kid?” He said not even bothering to conceal the implied sneer in his voice.
Before I could reply Rob cut in. “Do you not know who this is? Detective Smith is the youngest person to ace the detective exams in the last ten years. I don't know how many years you've been on pad-foot duty with the force or what sense of entitlement you think your “experience” gives you but I'd step out of the way before someone has to give Henderson a call.”
At his words I could see the muscles on the cop’s neck tense and his eyes widen. Rob had a unique way of bluffing. He never trusted the little white lie. One spawned another and then before you knew it you had 50 balls in the air to juggle one handed. Instead you open with a big lie right out of the gate. You get that one past, and you’re already half way to Shangri-La.
The cop gave me a longer look this time before turning back to Rob. “And why wasn't I informed that there would be a detective down at this site? And why aren't you up at the university? If you're some kind of hot shot shouldn’t you be scrambling up there with the rest of the force?”
“Private Sector” I replied simply. I pulled out the credentials from my coat pocket and handing them to the police officer. He grabbed it and held it out to a drone that was hovering nearby. I could hear a cheerful “BING” emit from the drone and as it did, I focused every ounce of my awareness in order to not to show any signs of relief. I became uncomfortably aware that my shoulders were tight and tense and resolved to keep them that way until the cop was out of sight. Hell, being uptight would probably actually help sell our story.
The cop moved his hand away from the drone and handed the credentials back to me, as he scratched a gut that spilled out recklessly over the top of his belt. Rob cut in again “Yeah we don't report in the station and we pick and choose our own assignments. So can we have the license back so we can get to work?”
“OK. Well it checks out. Just don't mess up anything in there. We haven't really had a chance to go over anything yet so standard first response protocol.” The cop was satisfied as to my identity but now turned his suspicious eye to Rob.
“Well I know who Detective Smith is now but who the hell are
you smart mouth?”
“This man here is my associate and bodyguard.” I answered quickly using the first explanation to come to my head.
“I’ve never heard of a detective with a body guard before.”
“Well maybe that's why your here playing guard dog and not down at the university. If you want to keep wasting our time I do have the LT on speed dial.” Rob quipped. I was amazed at the speed and ease Rob could manufacture bullshit. I could tell he was right on the money about the
guard already being on someone's shit list and resenting the fact that he wasn't currently where the act
ion was. Sure enough the officer stepped aside with a grunt as if he was trying to show disrespect ina way that couldn't be written up.
“Good boy” Rob remarked as he followed me past the police tape and
into the depths of the empty club. When we were safely in the club and out of earshot of the police officer I couldn't help but to bump my fist with Rob's and smirk.
“Youngest to ace the exam in ten years? Really? And did you have to antagonize the guy the entire time?” I couldn't help but ask.
“Yeah I did. He thought he could walk over us. And believe me Marcus, he would have just to
feel better about himself…. And about you acing the exam well I guess that's just what years of being a wing man on the bar scene does to you. I know how to make my friends and I look good.” He said without breaking stride. I looked around at the club, with all the displays powered down it seemed a lot dirtier and shabbier than I remembered.
One more thing that popped into my mind, and I knew that I had to ask Rob about it before we started to look around.
“How the hell did you get contacts on the police force?” I asked thinking about to his references to the LT and someone named Henderson. That statement did stop Rob in his tracks briefly…before he broke down into laughter “Heh I don't. I'm really glad that bluff worked though. Henderson does sound like a cop name, though, right? I figured there was a good chance that there was one on the force.”
