Deadrock (2 page)

"But we
can still give you a good nickname," said Max. Something strong. How about
Crusher? The Vanquisher?" Leo frowned. "No?" Max looked at Leo's
glittering stunsuit. "Okay, how about Metallica?"

"That has
a nice ring," said Leo.

"It suits
you, Leo." Max pulled his filecorder from his pocket. "Now, come on,
Metallica, let's go talk to the coroner."

No sooner had
Max and Leo returned from SoHo than Mayor Rhoades burst into the squad room shaking
his arms. He planted himself in the center of the room and bellowed, "Chief
Madison!"

Chief Elaine
Madison appeared at the door of her office, cool and collected in her perfectly
tailored stunproof suit. "Mayor, what a pleasant surprise," she said.

"Uh-oh,"
whispered Leo.

"Yeah,
she's got that 'polite-but-deadly' edge in her voice," said Max. The same
edge he heard when she reprimanded him for gluing O'Malley's desk drawer shut
with Liquid Anchor.

The Mayor
raved on. "Have you seen the latest Newsblots, Elaine?" he demanded. "Mayor's
Great-Grandpa: Murder Victim or Thief? Oh, my opponent will have a field day
with this!"

"The boys
in the lab are looking to identify the body but the capsule was damaged, Mayor.
The body was exposed to the air. There's only so much they can do," said
the
Chief
moving toward him.

"It's the
worst time to happen, " said the Mayor. "Three weeks from election.
Do you think Wollman could have planted it in there?"

"The lab
says the skeleton dates back a hundred years. And so far, the passport looks
valid," she said. She set her young, smooth face into a concerned but
determined expression. "Come into my office, Mayor, and we can discuss
this in private."

She shot a
warning glance around the squad room that was silent with 200 police
eavesdroppers. Max, Leo, and the other officers immediately fidgeted with other
items on their desks, looking busy while keeping one eye on the action in the
middle of the room.

"Oh, no!"
said the Mayor. "Not again, Elaine. You're not going to sweet-talk me out
of this one!" He backed away into O'Malley.

"Your
Honor, let me just say how personally sorry I was to hear about your
great-grandfather," wheedled O'Malley.

"But it
can't be my great-grandfather!" the Mayor roared. He stumbled about the
room desperately, bumping into officers and searching their faces. "Some
of you old-timers must remember him!" he said, colliding into Max and
rejecting his young face. He took Leo aside, "A tall old guy…gray hair?"
he asked. Leo shrugged and shook his head.

The Mayor
sighed. "I remember Great-Grandpa taking me for walks in Central Park, the
Zoo. If my real great-grandpa was dead inside that capsule then
who
was the guy taking me to the zoo? And all that paper
money! Where did that come from? Elaine, you've got to get this cleared up and
soon!"

"We're
working on it," the Chief said, reaching his side. She took his arm in a
firm grip. "Come to my office and we'll assign the case right now."

"We haven't
got time for a routine investigation. I've built my campaign on the importance
of family and Wollman will use this to destroy me! What about a Watcher?"

The officers
buzzed in reaction to the word.

"Absolutely
not!" barked the Chief. "We only go back in time in extreme cases.
The risks are too great – someone could change history!"

"Now you
listen to me, Elaine," said the Mayor, shoving his face nose-to-nose with hers.
"If I lose to Wollman you'll see just how extreme a case this is. You'll
be out on the street and he'll have a group of philosophers in here debating
about crime instead of solving it." The Mayor jabbed his finger at the
scene outside the window. "Just look at that!"

Outside, Green
Robes picketed the police station, shouting about police corruption and calling
for Mayor Rhoades to resign. The Chief ran her hand over her dark, glossy hair.

"It's
going to be tough to get approval for a Watcher," she said.

"Use
their own
words against them!" he said, gesturing to
the gilt-framed portrait hung over the door. The ancient man in the portrait
wore a somber, almost sinister expression above his long, green robe. The
caption of the photo read, "NO QUESTION UNANSWERED, NO CRIME UNSOLVED".

"This is
a 'Question Unanswered' and certainly a 'Crime Unsolved'!" crowed the
Mayor.

"I have
to see who's due for reassignment," she said, stroking her arm tattoo and
staring straight ahead as she mentally scanned her files.

The officers
scrambled. O'Malley sidled past the Mayor and whispered in a confidential tone,
"I'd love to help you, Mayor, but I'm working on something right now. Of
national security…"

Max pulled Leo
to the far side of the room. "Gnartz, I'd hate to get stuck with that
assignment," said Leo.

"Can't
happen," said Max. "We've got our sting all lined up."

"Well?"
demanded the Mayor. "Who's it going to be?"

The Chief
planted her feet, folded her arms and met the Mayor's gaze. "In my office,"
she said. The Mayor hesitated,
then
offered her his
arm to escort her.

"Let's
go, Leo. Just to be safe, I think we'd better duck out a little early today,"
whispered Max.

"Out of
sight, out of mind," said Leo, slipping out the door.

Late that
afternoon Max relaxed in the silence of his apartment. The colors flashed in
front of his eyes to the beat of his heart. He could hear his blood streaming
along its path. His arms and legs grew heavy and limp, and his head nodded
forward onto his chest. The theta waves started to kick in with their sudden
intensity of light and hue, indefinable colors blinking and shooting in the
boundless landscape behind his eyes. His cortex tingled with the overload of
thoughts jumping to be read and just as he was about to lean the secret of
life…the world butted in.

"Door
buzzes and
mindbeeps
…" he grumbled. He yanked the
sensory wires from his neck and tossed the goggles onto the rathide sofa. Still
loose from the instant relaxation of the brainwave equalizer, he trudged his
way to the door of his apartment, past the hexagonal walls of mounted antique
rifles, and an enormous plush toy buffalo head, past the potted saguaro cactus
hung with lariats and cowboy hats, and under the feather headdress hanging from
the steel rafters. He opened the front door and let in the Chief.

"I just
talked to Officer Ghantillam, our assignment officer," said Chief Madison.
"Since when do you take it upon yourself to refuse assignments?"

"But
Chief, I had to! The Spinelli case is set to break in three days!"

"I
hand-picked you for this Watcher, Max. Besides, it's a chance for you to get
some practical use out of those bean-chips of yours."

Bean-chips,
noodle-nodules, wit-whackers, cortex-crumbs – Max had heard them all. All
those names for the infochips implanted in his brain when he was eleven. His
dad had thought them a great idea, and so had Max. Grandma had not been so
enthusiastic. One night, Max had crept out of bed to eavesdrop on their
argument.

"The boy
needs time to grow – what's he going to do with a brain full of
electronic knowledge? He won't need to go to school!" she had said.

"Exactly!
Think of the time he'll save!" said Dad.

"Time for
what? Work? Why do you think there's normally an age limit of twenty-one on the
implants, Jack? It's to protect these kids."

"But we
can override the limit because of his IQ. He's smart, Mom, and he
wants
to do it! He wants to be a cop! Think of it –
one day I might even partner with my own son!"

"You're
robbing him, Jack. You're making him a freak to kids his own age and robbing
him of his childhood."

"He's my
kid. I'll do what I want!" said Dad.

And he did.
Max got the implants and dropped out of the fifth grade with a brain that had
earned a college degree.
Several degrees, in fact.
Sometimes Max surprised
himself
with what he knew.

"Max,"
said the Chief, "you have a chip for American history, right?" said
the Chief, eyeing the room curiously.

"History
of the Old West, Chief! Wyatt Earp, Billy the Kid! Dodge City, not Old New York
City."

"Close
enough," she said. "Look at it this way. The Mayor's great-grandpa's
been slandered. Imagine how you'd feel if they started saying your grandfather
hadn't been Chief of Police, that he'd been a thief."

Max swung
himself into the canvas hammock that hung by the window and watched a
jet-scooter zip past the ninety-third floor. "Leave Granddad out of this,"
he said.

Madison leaned
on the nearest seat, a saddle slung over a step stool. She smoothed her
no-nonsense tone into a coaxing pitch. "But just for argument's sake, you'd
want to clear Granddad's name, right?"

"Maybe,
but I can't go now!"

"You're
assigned," she said, ending the debate. "You go when and where I send
you."

Max burrowed
deeper into the folds of the hammock. "And if I refuse?"

The Chief
studied her hands and said softly, "I'd hate to take your badge over this,
Max. After all, I'm the one who fought to let a kid become a cop, remember?"

Max lay still
for a moment, then dangled his legs over the side and rocked. "I remember.
Okay, but Leo isn't going to be too happy about this, either."

"Leo's
not going. He doesn't have Watcher Clearance. He can complete the Spinelli
affair without you. I'm going to put him with O'Malley."

"O'Malley!
They can't handle it," cried Max.

"Enough!
Look, I don't generally make housecalls. I only came here because of my respect
for your family, so shape up!" She glared at him as he crossed to the wall
covered with holograms of Clint Eastwood, John Wayne and Android Bob. He
pretended to study their faces while he waited for the Chief to calm down.

The Chief
swallowed hard and fought her emotions. When she spoke, she seemed tired.

"I need
someone I can trust, Max. And after all, it's just a Watcher. All you have to
do is witness the crime and bring the murderer to justice. It'll only take a
few days."

"But I
need the points from the sting. Missing it'll cost me my promotion, Chief,"
said Max.

"Not
necessarily. You can take care of the murder quickly, return, and do the sting
right on schedule. What do you say?"

"When can
I leave?" asked Max.

"Just as
soon as Bird's processed," said the Chief.

"Bird?"

"John
Look-For-A Bird. He'll be your partner. He's just coming off of another
assignment," said the Chief.

"Just
coming off a suspension, you mean! I heard he messed up his last Watcher. Caught
gambling or something! The guy's a screw-up!"

"He's a
good cop," said the Chief. "He just made a mistake, that's all. You
could learn a lot from him, Max."

"First I'm
a Watcher, now I'm a babysitter. I suppose you expect me to keep him out of trouble?"
said Max, looking into the Chief's amused face.

"Probably
won't be necessary," said the Chief, putting her arm around Max's
shoulder, "I heard he's reformed."

The next morning,
Max rose before dawn. He slid the heavy, slender box marked PARAVISION SYSTEMS
from under his bed. It's just for self-protection, he told himself while
assembling the pieces of the VisionScope. What if this guy really is a screw-up?
I could get myself killed partnering with him.

A wisp of an
old argument echoed through his mind.

"An
illegal invasion of privacy!" his Grandma had said.

"It's
just a simple home-surveillance device!" his dad replied.

"You
track these poor people like a hunter stalking prey!"

"'These
poor people' are crooks! What good is technology if we can't use it to catch a
crook?"

"Even a
crook has rights!" hollered Grandma.

Max smiled as
he remembered the endless round of debates his father and grandmother waged
over police procedure versus citizens' rights. Max always found
himself
agreeing first with one, then the other, as they
skillfully made each point. By the time one of them huffed out of the room, Max
couldn't decide what he believed.

No confusion
today, Dad, Max thought, screwing the final lens in place. I'm siding with you.

He fished the
cold metal pipe of the VisionScope inside his shirt and took the Downtown Slide
to the apartment building of his prey, John Look-For-A-Bird.

Max hunkered
down in the branches of the everberry bush across the street from Bird's
building. He brushed back a thorny twig and cut his finger. Well, Dad always
said surveillance wasn't for sissies, he thought. Not one for wisemen, either,
Grandma had replied. A silver berry dribbled down the collar of his shirt,
sending a chill up his spine. He trained the VisionScope onto the top floor of
Bird's orange adobedon building.

"Where
are you, Birdie?" Max said to himself, scanning through the walls of each
apartment in the rising morning light. He viewed a sleeping couple, then a worn
young woman feeding a baby, then a man with long blonde hair practicing yoga.