by C M Dancha
Raul opened his eyes a little wider and jerked his head back. He tried to imitate someone who was surprised with astounding information or an odd question. He didn't know if his acting job was good enough to convince Slice. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Slice."
Slice took a deep drag from his cigar. He normally didn't inhale cigar smoke but this time he took in as much as his lungs could hold. He exhaled it like a fire breathing dragon at the liar sitting across the desk from him.
"What I'm talking about is that Rollie Sweats, your friend and fellow Phoenvartis associate, received host samples from Klaus Ekstrom which he was supposed to clone. Instead, he switched those samples with another set of samples. He did something with the samples he was supposed to use. I'm asking you, what did he do with MY host samples? Where are they, Mr. Hakala? Think very carefully before you answer."
Raul sat straight up in his chair, stared directly at Slice and made no movements which might show deception on his part. "How do you know Klaus gave him samples and how do you know he didn't use them?"
Slice wanted to leap across the desk, grab Hakala around the neck and squeeze the life out of him. Anyone who answered his questions with questions was stalling and trying to be clever. Not only was Raul lying, but he was turning this conversation into a farcical game of cat and mouse. He was making a huge mistake if he thought he could outwit his new boss, his time at Phoenvartis was coming to a quick ending. After he tangled and lost to his new boss, he wouldn't be able to find a job cleaning shit from sewers.
Slice smirked and blew a puff of smoke into the air. "Raul, I know you're lying. You know where those host samples are and for some reason want to keep that information secret. Usually, I wouldn't waste my time answering questions from someone like you, but this time I will. The host samples from the World Council belonged to a woman. If you haven't noticed, that thing …, that person in the primate lab is a male. And Klaus assured me before he died that he gave the host samples to Rollie. There was no reason for Klaus to lie about that."
Slice couldn't help smiling when he remembered the pain he’d inflicted on that turd, Klaus, before he left this world.
Raul grunted, rubbed his face with the fingers of his right hand and scrambled to decide what he should say or do next. For a fleeting moment, he considered taking out his energy burst gun and putting a hole through Slice's head. He vetoed that idea in short order. Knowing Slice, he’d most likely activated a transparent energy barrier around himself, just in case someone might want to blow his head off.
"That male-female thing sure backs up your accusation about Rollie."
As Slice steamed a little more, trying desperately not to show it, Raul prayed and prayed that Slice would fall into his trap. He told himself to keep denying any knowledge of the World Council host samples, no matter what Slice said or threatened. For the first time in his life, he prayed silently to a Supreme Being, King of Heaven and Earth. Please God, let Slice take the bait.
"Tell me, Raul, does that person in the primate lab know where the World Council host samples are?"
Raul answer immediately. "I have no idea, why don't you ask him? In all honesty, I don't know if he understands that he’s a replicant."
For the first time in the conversation, Slice accepted Raul's answer as truthful.
"It's obvious that you're not a team player, Mr. Hakala, and people who are not team players don't have a future at Phoenvartis. For that matter, they don't have a future with any organization under the control of the World Council. I'm sorry you feel this way, Mr. Hakala. Why don't you take a couple of hours and reconsider your decision?"
"Mr. Slice, I'm not sure how I can reconsider anything. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you something I don't know."
"That's okay, Mr. Hakala. If you don't want to help me, there's another way to find those host samples from the World Council. When you leave here, I want you to go over to the Medical Examiner's office and see Mr. Milkweed. He'll have a package for you to bring back here. Take the package to Claude Ekstrom's office."
Bingo! Raul almost leaped into the air and shouted ‘hurrah’. Slice thought he was being clever and was two steps ahead of everyone else. What he’d ended up being was too clever by half.
"Can I ask what I'm picking up?" Raul knew exactly what was in the package but had to ask to make his reaction seem authentic.
"You're smart enough to figure that out. Goodbye, Hakala." Slice waved Raul out of his office but added one last thing. "By the way, Claude Ekstrom will be your new boss, starting this Friday."
The victory Raul won when Slice decided to clone Rollie was deflated like a balloon. Claude Ekstrom, his new boss. Good god, this had to be a bad dream. No one in his right mind could believe Claude was executive material. There was only one viable explanation for such insanity. Slice wanted a ‘yes man’ in the CEO's chair, who would do exactly what he wanted. If Slice said jump, Claude's new job was to ask how high.
Within a minute of leaving Slice's office, Raul was starting to see some humor in Claude's appointment to the top job at Phoenvartis. He wondered if Claude knew he was being promoted. If so, he was most likely sitting in his office now, making a list of the employees who mistreated him through the years. It was probably a mile long. Now, he could pay back each of them in spades. Of course, there wouldn't be many people left at the company after he got done.
The first three names on his hit list had to be Helmer, Rollie, and Raul Hakala. Claude was probably infuriated that Rollie was murdered last night. Someone had deprived him of the pleasure to pink slip the guy who watched his every move and kept him around only because he was the nephew of the former CEO.
Raul was going to contact Helmer with the news about Claude when he got to his office. Instead, Gretchen was in his office sobbing her eyes out. When she saw him coming, she ran to him and fell into his arms.
"Raul, Raul… Rollie is dead."
"I know, Gretchen. I was the one who found him."
When Gretchen heard this, she burst out crying. She was hoping that the death notice and article in the Beobachter and other news services had been a mistake. Raul led her to the nearby sofa, holding her up by the waist. He called his assistant into the office and the two of them comforted her for a half hour before she started to run out of tears.
"Raul, what happened? Who would kill Rollie?"
"I don't know, Gretchen. Between us, I searched his apartment for clues before I called the M.E.'s office but didn't find anything. At least, I didn't see anything unusual. I turned the case over to Inspector Milkweed from the Medical Examiner's office. I've been told that he's a very good detective so let's wait and see if he can figure out who killed Rollie and why."
"Is Milkweed the guy who came to Rollie's apartment one night asking a bunch of questions? The one who might be a girl, a guy or maybe both?"
"Yeah, that's him. But, what's this about Milkweed being a guy or girl or both?"
"I think he's a girl. Oh, did I say that already? It doesn't matter. I shouldn't care what he is if he finds Rollie's killer. I only hope he's as good as you think."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that he has his hands full. Callie's murder, the murder at the Opulenz and now Rollie."
Gretchen's observations about Milkweed's sexuality and mounting murder caseload were quite insightful. It might be her female intuition, or she knew more than she let on. Raul knew who committed two of the three murders but didn't have any idea who killed Rollie. He almost felt like telling Milkweed who killed Callie and Claudette, so the investigator could devote one hundred percent of his time to the Rollie Sweats' investigation.
"I'm sure Milkweed is working really hard to solve these murders." He didn't know if this was true or not, but it sounded good and seemed to soothe Gretchen somewhat. "Gretchen, why don't you lay down here and get some rest. If you need anything, let my assistant know. I've got to go over and see Milkweed about what happened last night."
"Thank you, Raul. Will you pr
omise to tell me if Milkweed has any suspects or makes any progress?"
"I will, Gretchen. Now, you try to get some rest." Raul headed out of the office but stopped when Gretchen whispered loud enough for him to hear, "I forgot. Rollie gave me a message for you."
Raul did an about-face and sat next to Gretchen on the sofa. "What did you say?"
"Rollie told me to tell you, Jefferson, my great grandfather."
"What else did he say?"
"All he said was give you that message if anything bad happened to him. That's it."
"Who is Jefferson?"
"I don't know, Raul. I figured you and Rollie already talked about this, so you would know what his message meant."
"I don't know what the message means, Gretchen." Raul thought for a moment about the message from the grave. Rollie must have had a premonition that his life was in danger and this message was important. Raul took her hand and whispered, "Gretchen, forget this message. Don't tell anyone about it. I have a bad feeling that it could get you and I killed if we repeat it to the wrong people. Do you understand?"
Gretchen nodded. "It's already forgotten. Raul, should I go over and feed the puppy?"
"Gretchen, don't worry about the dog. We're… I'm taking care of it."
Gretchen heard the change in Raul's tone of voice. She gazed deeply into his eyes and said, "He's dead, isn't he?"
There was no use trying to hide the truth. She would find out soon enough about the puppy. "Yes, he was also killed. Whoever had it in for Rollie was disturbed enough to do away with the dog."
Gretchen began crying again. There weren't many tears to wipe away, but she blew her nose so much that Raul worried she would get a bloody nose. While he held her and supplied tissue after tissue, Raul thought about why the killer would take the time to kill the dog. There were only two possible answers. Either the killer needed to silence the dog because it was raising a ruckus, or he had so much hatred for Rollie that killing the dog was an unexpected bonus.
When Gretchen calmed down, Raul turned her to face him. "Gretchen, I don't want to scare you but I'm beginning to believe that Rollie's murderer is psychologically unbalanced; a real sicko. If he's willing to kill an innocent animal, then he might come after you. He might see you as an extension of Rollie and think it's necessary to kill you. I'm going to ask Milkweed to give you a bodyguard or some type of protection for a couple of weeks. In the meantime, you need to be very aware of what is going on around you. Don't take the same route each day to and from work. Make sure no one is following you. In other words, live differently each day so you don't establish a pattern. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Thanks, Raul. How long will I have to live like this?"
Raul shook his head from side to side. "I don't know. With luck, I'll know the answer to that question in a few weeks."
Raul kissed Gretchen’s forehead, got up and left his office.
As he walked to the main entrance of Phoenvartis he switched on his micromic and contacted Helmer Stanke.
"Raul, I was getting ready to contact you. Is it true that Rollie is dead?"
"I'm afraid so. I found him in his apartment last night; shot through the chest."
"For god's sake! Who would kill Rollie? I can understand why several people would want me killed, but Rollie? He was a great guy."
"Helmer, I haven't got much time. I'll come by this afternoon and we can talk. In the meantime, we have a bigger problem. I just left a meeting with Mr. Prick, Sedgewick Slice, and guess who is our new boss?
There was silence on Helmer's end. Raul was about to ask if he was still there when he said, "Please don't tell me it's Claude."
"Bingo. Starting Friday."
"Fabulous! I can safely say that my tenure at Phoenvartis is over. It's been nice working with you, my friend."
"You're not alone, Helmer. I'm on the way out too. Then again, we have a couple of days. With the way people have been dying around here lately, maybe we'll get lucky and Claude will find himself on the unfriendly end of an energy burst gun."
Both men lapsed into silence considering the possibility of Claude being murdered.
"Raul, little creeps like Claude never get what they deserve. We better resign ourselves to seeking employment elsewhere."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Listen, I'll see you later. Take it easy." Raul signed off as he exited through the main lobby. He was still thinking about the pros and cons of Claude suffering an untimely death. Finding a qualified and trustworthy hitman would be easy enough, but, would he be creating a slew of unintended problems by having Claude killed? He needed to think this through thoroughly.
Ten minutes later, Raul entered the ultra-modern government building which housed every government-related department servicing the Swiss Free Zone. As he waited in the lobby for Milkweed, he marveled at the luxury on display in the lobby. No expense had been spared in the construction of this facility. Valuable works of art hung on every wall, exquisite sculptures dotted the lobby and a fascinating waterfall ran down the entire length of the staircase. Raul watched people using the staircase without getting wet or slipping and wondered how that was possible. He wondered if Milkweed could explain the technology used to create the illusion.
Any area on the walls without expensive works of art was covered with tributes to the World Council. There was one accolade after another, praising the accomplishments of the World Council. Raul laughed to himself about how each tribute described the benefits derived by the common man from World Council programs. What a crock of crap. The only people who benefited from World Council programs were government agents and associates. The rest of society scraped by with just enough to survive.
At each end of the lobby, giant halo screens played nonstop the most recent propaganda from and about the World Council. It was continuous self-promotion, covering every facet of life. Anyone who watched this for more than ten minutes would think the world was a giant Shangri-La where the citizens laughed and danced away each day.
"Mr. Hakala, good to see you again. Let's go up to my office and talk."
Raul followed Milkweed up the staircase spending most of his time looking down at the steps. He was fascinated by how he could walk on water without getting wet. When he gave up on that mystery, he watched the way Milkweed carried himself. Even though Milkweed was built like a bodybuilder, there was something feminine about the way he walked. Gretchen's assessment of the investigator could be right.
"Have a seat, Raul. Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No, I'm fine." Raul was awestruck with the opulence of Milkweed's office. Like the lobby, his office was constructed and decorated with the best of everything. Exotic woods, fine crystal, and deep plush wool carpets were used throughout the oversized office. Raul found he was jealous – this office was extravagant compared to his. In fact, he would gladly exchange his apartment for Milkweed's office any day of the week. So this was why the average citizen had to work and struggle like a slave each day. Nothing was too good for the government associates who were supposed to be serving the average man.
"Pretty nice place you have here."
Milkweed removed his custom-made suit coat and carefully hung it in a corner closet. "It is. I would have decorated it a little differently, but this will do. If you think this is nice you should see the dining room. We can stop there later if you have the time."
Raul ignored Milkweed's offer, afraid that he would get nauseous seeing the lavish accommodations. It would be a short step to saying something which criticized the government lackeys for living the high life on the backs of average citizens.
"I know it's been less than a day, but have you made any progress in Rollie's murder?"
"So far, I've come up with nothing. I pulled the city images for Rollie's apartment and showed them to the apartment manager. He identified everyone entering and leaving the apartment between 9pm and 1am as residents. The only person he didn't know was you. Whoever was in Rollie's apartment must have entered the buildi
ng some other way. It's too bad the city system doesn't record all alleys and secondary streets."
"How about Rollie's apartment; anything there?"
"My forensics team is still working on it and our physicians are meticulously examining his body looking for abnormalities and clues. About the only thing I can say for sure is that it looks to me like the intruder was searching for something and Rollie interrupted him. Unfortunately, Rollie came home at the wrong time."
"Jason, let me know if you need any help. Rollie was a good friend and I want to know who murdered him. Also, can you provide Rollie's girlfriend with protection? I have a bad feeling that Rollie's murderer may go after her to find out if she knows anything."
"I don't have the manpower to provide a bodyguard, I'm sorry. Does she know anything?"
"I talked to her this morning. She was upset, which is understandable, but I doubt that she knows anything which might lead to Rollie's murderer." Raul kept the message about Jefferson to himself. He didn't believe for one moment that Milkweed didn't have the manpower to protect Gretchen for a couple of weeks. Hell, he could sell one of the masterpieces hanging in his office and employ a few men for several years.
"Okay, I'll try to keep an eye on her." There was no sense arguing with Milkweed about protecting Gretchen, so he changed the subject. "I understand you have a package for me."
Milkweed opened a desk drawer and took out a small thermal pack which he handed to Raul.
"Do you know what this is?" Raul questioned.
"All I know is that we got a directive from England to take samples from a cadaver and send them to Phoenvartis."
"What body did the samples come from?"
"I don't know, and my boss won't tell me. Apparently, he's under strict orders to keep that information confidential. What's your guess, Raul?"
"God, it could be anyone. It might be Callie, Claudette, Rollie or even Klaus. Or, it could be a combination of all four. It might even be some unknown drifter. Who the hell knows?”
"Why do they want the samples?"
"I think it's obvious that one or more dead people are going to be cloned… brought back to life."
