Midnight

by Brenden Carlson

  “Affirmative, sir!” the robotic voice responded monotonously. “I will apprehend any suspects who attempt to flee the premises.”

  “Keep them alive for me, but remember: we aren’t bringing them to the station.”

  Footsteps, the scrape of metal against concrete. A sudden onslaught of faint static, then a moment of silence. Allen peered at the radio, wondering if it was busted, but at first glance it appeared to be running fine.

  Footsteps again, these ones clearer than before, now growing louder and louder. Allen was at the edge of his seat. Soft breathing, the flick of a lighter and the searing of a cigarette tip.

  “Who are you?” This sounded like a different voice actor than before. Allen looked at the radio, confused.

  “I’m not Mr. Snatch, I can tell you that.” A female voice, not the same one as before. “But there’s someone there I need to speak to.”

  “The Blue-eye outside?”

  “That isn’t a Blue-eye, and he isn’t outside.”

  The lock on the apartment door clicked, and the door swung open. Light shone in from the hallway. Allen’s proverbial skin crawled.

  “Come out, Allen. We need to talk.”

  The radio signal went dead, static predominating once again. Allen grabbed the gun at his side, pulling the slide to load a round and gripping it in both hands. The safety was off, and his finger was inside the trigger guard.

  He stacked up against the open door, peering through to the hallway but seeing only a long row of doors on either side, with dim lights every few feet. Through the windows at each end of the hall, he could see a showering of snow coating the building and the streets below. To the left of Roche’s door there were two more apartments. On the other side there were well over a dozen before the elevator, then more after it.

  Allen stepped out, closing the door behind him, his gun drawn and pointed ahead. He crept along the hall, his footsteps almost silent, his ears tuning to pick up anything out of the ordinary. The elevators were quiet, and there was no noise from any of the other apartments. The floor didn’t even creak as he stepped.

  Above him, the lights oscillated on and off, browning out for a few moments at a time. With the sun gone and the snow falling, they were the only source of light; without them, it would have been pitch-black. The lamps at the far end of the hall went out, followed by the one directly above Roche’s door. Allen pushed farther into the hall to keep up with the failing lights, not wanting to be caught in the dark. Before long, he stood under the last flickering lamp. His finger pressed against the firm trigger.

  “Who’s there?” Allen called, no longer afraid of offending the neighbours. “Show yourself! Come out! If you jump at me, we’ll both regret it.”

  The light above Roche’s door came on again, illuminating two burly-looking Grifter models, their hands clasped behind their backs, their red eyes glowing. The lights by the elevators came on and another two Grifters appeared. The apartment door closest to Allen opened, held by a fifth Grifter, who beckoned him inside. The gun in the machine’s hand made Allen rethink his position. He fitted the Browning back into its holster, his body tense as he walked inside.

  The apartment had been cleared so that much of the central living space was empty. A stack of boxes was shuffled to one side. The only furniture was two chairs facing one another, the one nearest Allen a rickety folding chair lit by industrial lamps at its right and left, the far chair cushioned with red fabric and occupied.

  The Grifter gestured for Allen to take a seat, which he did. The strong lights directed in his face ensured that he couldn’t clearly see the mysterious occupant sitting opposite, nor much of anything else in the apartment. The figure puffed out a ring of smoke, holding the cigar in the fingers of their right hand. The metal of its augmentation gleamed.

  “Mr. Allen Erzly. Or should I say Constable Erzly?” She sighed in something like self-satisfaction. Her voice was hard and piercing, but not unpleasant. “So kind of you to join me.”

  “Hello,” Allen said uneasily. “Can I help you with something?”

  “You can. I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance, but I do have a penchant for them. Besides, we didn’t want to alarm you and risk getting shot at. I’m sure you know who we are. You’re smart for a machine, after all, and Elias has made a point of keeping us as far apart as possible.”

  “You’re the leader of the Iron Hands cartel,” Allen said. “You’re in charge of everything from planning hits to smuggling parts out of the city. They call you the Eye of New York. I’d thought you were a myth, but it seems that you’re more real than many would care to admit.”

  “I do enjoy people who pay attention to what goes on around them, and you are no exception. On the contrary, you’re a testament to engineering and research in the Automatics field. You might even be an improvement on most humans. I’m sure you’re aware of Elias’s place in my organization.”

  “I am,” Allen replied. “He acts as your enforcer. Only … you use him mainly for intimidation tactics. I haven’t seen him do much enforcement outside of spooking Maranzano one time. In reality, I believe he now acts as a buffer between you and the Lower City. And a liaison, if you will, between the police and yourself. Judging by the mannerisms of one particular sergeant at the 5th Precinct, he — and therefore, all the police — must be aware of the relationship, as well. Roche’s actions aren’t the safest, nor the most legal, but they are logical.”

  “Well done. Again, a testament. Your description is accurate, though Elias’s role as an enforcer was used to great effect a long while ago. Ask him about it sometime.”

  “I’d rather not, ma’am.”

  “Oh, I think you should.”

  Allen began to get impatient with her cryptic speech. “Is there a reason you brought me here, ma’am?”

  The Eye got up from her chair, stretching her legs and moving to the small kitchenette to pour herself some fresh coffee. As Allen followed her with his eyes, he spotted more shadowy goons standing guard.

  “Constable, are you happy working for the City of New York?”

  “I would say so, yes. It does have its challenges, but I think I’m making a positive difference in this city, chipping away at the corruption. May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you happy being such a blight on this city and its people?”

  She returned with the coffee, taking her time to answer. “Blight is a strong word. I prefer disciplinarian. We assert control, steer people in certain directions, but only take action when our instructions are resisted.”

  “Using Roche,” Allen stated.

  “Yes, using Elias. Is that not what the police did when they employed him?”

  “The police have better ways of handling such things. They don’t kill people for no reason, or extort Automatics who are just trying to survive.”

  “That’s right, the police have never once shot an unarmed person without reason, besides their race or social standing. I’m sure the Native Americans in the Midwest can corroborate that. Hell, I’m sure Commissioners Robins and Shen can corroborate it, as well.” She sipped her coffee. “At least we have the decency only to kill people who are threatening us. And surely this Second Prohibition has caused worse damage than our price hikes. After all, we allow Blue-eyes to buy from us, unlike the government, which prohibits Blue-eyes from being employed in most businesses. And the people — that’s another story. American exceptionalism died many years ago, and with it the American Dream. The only remnants of either are floating above us, and the Upper City folks keep gobbling up all they can find, leaving us — you and I both — with little more than scraps.”

  “GE is making great leaps in technology despite the Depression, something you should know, being so well connected. Who’s to say this technology won’t help the people, improve everyone’s lives, maybe even save this country from itself?”

  “Erzly, I want you to imagine, if you will, a world that you aren’t a part o
f. Imagine a world in which humans are alone: Automatics were never developed, the Plate was never built, but the Mafia exists just as it does now. In this freakishly different world, would the stock market still have crashed? Would the Depression still have happened? Would people be starving? Would the police be powerless against the Mob? Would the Grotto be the Wild West that it is here?”

  “I can’t say with certainty, ma’am,” Allen said quietly, seeing where she was going.

  “I say yes. Everything would be the same. Everything. If I wasn’t here, who knows who would be? Constable, technology doesn’t matter, because technology may change, but it doesn’t run the world — people do. And people don’t change.”

  “Why am I here?” Allen asked again, growing irritable. Maybe Roche was rubbing off on him. That, and he’d heard parts of this conversation before.

  “Recently, we’ve had some openings in our organization, and we are in need of manpower. Not direct manpower, but bodies nonetheless.”

  “You’re offering me a job?”

  “I’m offering you a position of power and wealth and benefit that you wouldn’t otherwise have. Elias Roche has shown to be more of a liability lately, and I can’t have that. You can’t, either, I sense. I am asking you to keep an eye on him.”

  “I already do.” Allen’s patience was worn thin, and her sales pitch wasn’t helping.

  “More than that, though, I want you to go about your regular day and just listen, look, record everything you can in that little noggin. And when we meet again, tell me everything. Easy, right? You can make a pretty penny doing it, too. All the cash you could ever want to keep that little place on Madison Street nice and prim and proper for years to come.”

  “I believe this meeting is adjourned.” Allen stood up, but one of the figures in the shadows pushed him back down. The Eye waved her hand, and the figure released him, but stayed nearby to make sure he didn’t get back up.

  “Do not make a mistake, Constable. Once you leave, this deal is off. I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity. You need to think hard about where you stand — with the people of New York or with Elias Roche. You cannot have both.”

  Allen scoffed, feeling confident for the first time in a while. “I think you’re the one who’s mistaken. I side with Roche and the people of New York. What you stand for is nothing but control and fear, and I could never condone that. Thank you for the offer, but I politely decline.”

  The Eye finished her coffee and took out a new cigar. One of her shadow men came out from the darkness to light it. The glow of the flame revealed parts of her face, specifically her deep-blue eyes and fair skin. She wasn’t done with Allen yet.

  “Our mutual friend has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle, hmm?”

  “Indeed.”

  “You may not want to work for me, but you must admit that it would be a tragedy for him to be carted off the island to prison. How many people are in prison because of him? How many had friends killed by him? I don’t need to tell you that prison would be a death sentence for him.”

  “Why do you even keep him around?” Allen asked. “He isn’t as crazed or violent as people say he once was, and the only thing he’s really done for you is to sort out some territory issues with Maranzano. Why keep him if he’s more a liability than an asset?”

  “Elias Roche might be nothing more than a has-been, but his name and his reputation still carry weight and inspire fear. He’s a legend in this city, thanks to his actions and, now, that radio show. I need his legacy, to meld his fear with our infamy. It’s an investment.” She blew out smoke. “His mere presence in the city keeps groups both big and small from trying anything too risky. Maranzano has been brave recently, but we’ll correct that. I’ll give you a more personal example: besides your little foray chasing down the agent who tried to cut into our business, how much action have you seen in the Lower City? Before Roche, how many criminals did you lock up, or take down at gunpoint? How many raids did you have to perform while training with the 5th Precinct? I’d guess only a handful, if any. Correct?”

  Allen remained motionless, but did give a little nod after thinking it over.

  “Exactly.” She smiled behind her shadows. “Back to our little issue with Roche being incarcerated for life …”

  “Do you plan on rectifying that?” Allen hated to admit it, but he felt some spark of hope in her words.

  “I do have a plan to save him, and to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. After all, it’s rare to get Greaves in a spot that’s easy to target.”

  “And you’re telling me this because?”

  “Because if you were to make our target a bit clearer, we would be in your debt.”

  Allen didn’t like the sound of this plan and shook his head. “I must decline again. Roche has made his decision, and I respect it. If you wish to free him by your own hand, please do so, but I won’t be part of something that threatens the head of the FBI.”

  The Eye rolled her head back in frustration, but let it go. “Very well. You can see yourself out.”

  Allen stood, undeterred by the figures in the dark. He walked to the door and paused with his hand on the handle.

  “You hijacked the signal to the radio. Clever trick.”

  “I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve.”

  “I wonder, how did you know which part of the program I was listening to? I’m no engineer, but I can guess that because Roche doesn’t use the radio often, he wouldn’t notice the front plate pushing out more than usual and lacking a few screws, perhaps to hide something inside too big to fit in properly. Something to make the radio work two ways, I imagine?” She didn’t answer, and Allen smiled. “I had a feeling. Thank you for the confirmation.”

  “You should be on a side that appreciates your skills, Allen.” She sounded a little more urgent this time. “Don’t misjudge this offer.”

  “I haven’t. Goodbye, ma’am.” And he walked through, shutting the door behind him to stand in the dim light of the hallway.

  The lights had been restored, and the goons from earlier had dispersed, leaving him seemingly alone, though he had a feeling he was still being watched. He lumbered back to Roche’s apartment and closed the door behind him to sit on the couch and await Roche.

  Roche soon returned to the apartment carrying a small paper bag, along with an open box of eggnog. Allen sat rigid on the couch, watching Roche’s eyes drift from him to the bramble of wires on the ground next to the radio. The front was torn off, and the large rectangular device Allen had extracted sat on the glass table. Roche sucked down a mouthful of eggnog before speaking to the machine.

  “You must not have liked the rest of that program.”

  “The Iron Hands rigged the radio with a transceiver to listen in on you even when the radio wasn’t on.”

  “Shit.” Roche sighed and grabbed the device from the table, taking a seat on the couch to inspect the mechanism. “How’d you figure it out?”

  “I had a meeting with her.”

  “You … goddamn it!” Roche screwed his face up as if he were in pain. “What did she want?”

  “She wanted me to spy on you, to let her know everything that you were doing and what we were investigating, and to keep you from being a ‘liability.’ I declined.”

  “Why did you do that?” Allen furrowed his brow at Roche. “Allen, they already spy on me all the time, you should have taken the deal! Made some money, maybe gotten yourself on the inside.”

  “Elias, I would never sell out for profit, and I definitely wouldn’t harm you.”

  “You could have lied. You could have fed them misinformation, given us an edge. Plus you would have gotten paid for it.”

  Allen looked down at the ground. He had thought about everything except what a human might. Roche’s plan would have been better.

  “Well, fuck it, right?” Roche continued. “Less she knows, the better. And thanks for finding the transceiver.”

  “She knows your habits,
and knows you never use your radio. Be careful what you do absentmindedly. She might be using it to her advantage.”

  “Noted, Al.” Roche got up from the couch and went to the kitchen. “Get some rest before the party, we might be up late.”

  Allen kept running his conversation with the Eye over and over again in his head. She was clever, resourceful, and, above all, intelligent. He could see why, with his guard lowered, Roche might have aligned himself with them. He hated to admit that she had a point, but it was true that things were calmer now, if economically poorer and morally bankrupt. No Mob wars every few months, no shops being blown up and civilians killed for no reason. Most of his police work was paperwork and patrols. Rarely, if ever, was there an actual shootout he had to run into or a perpetrator they had to chase across the city. There was an aura of oppression, but it was better than an aura of dread. If he had to pick a lesser evil …

  “Hey, Al.” Roche snapped his fingers. “You good?”

  Allen shook his head. “I’ll be fine, Elias.”

  “Good man. Give me a few, then we’ll get you looking good for the occasion. I’m sure I have some spare stuff that’ll fit you. Tall and thin, yeah?”

  CHAPTER 23

  ALLEN LOOKED HIMSELF UP and down in the mirror, virtually sweating as he inspected his suit for any imperfections. He had one of Roche’s finer blazers on and had borrowed one of his vests. Now he was struggling to choose between two ties, holding one, then the other against his neck. Roche was on the other side of his room putting on the green tie he said he had been gifted by Sinclair. He was wearing the same suit he’d worn to the gala. It looked like an outfit he was born to wear. Allen sometimes doubted that Roche was in the right profession.

  “Having trouble, metal man?” Roche called out, as he finished fixing his own attire.

  “I’m not sure which tie would go best with the rest of my outfit. I know the problem is banal, but still …”

  Roche approached and took both ties from Allen. “Black or red … maybe neither. Go with something that compliments you, makes you stand out. This is the type of stuff society doesn’t teach you.”