Liquid Cool: The Cyberpunk Detective Series (19 page)

"Him," she said, pointing to me.

In an instant, the entire demeanor of the two police officers changed. They went from Officer Friendly-mode to Judge Dredd-pre-killer mode. Their eyes narrowed and focused on me.

"Don't look at me like that," I said. "She was in a terrible accident. Her hover-car crashed, and the entire thing flipped and landed on her. Her arms were crushed and pinned and the hover-car was on fire. She was already getting cooked alive and it was leaking fuel so it was going to explode, too. What was I supposed to do? Wait for the ambulance? She'd be burnt alive or blown up. I had a laser cutter in my vehicle, because I do car restoration gigs. I grabbed it and did what had to be done to save her life. Her arms were gone anyway and it was either them or her life. I did what had to be done. I was as psychologically damaged as she was physically and psychologically damaged, but it had to be done."

All the while I was reciting what happened, Punch Judy was nodding in acknowledgment. The policemen's demeanor reverted back to cordial from their "prepare to open fire" expressions.

"Your boss cut off your arms to save your life and you punched a perp out the window who was trying to harm him." Office Breaks returned to his line of questioning.

"No, I didn't punch him."

"The thug attacked my secretary, Officers, and she was defending herself, defending her person. It was complete self-defense and it was in her legal place of employment."

The officers started to grin.

"Okay, Mr. Cruz.," Officer Break said. "The thing about guys who think they can get away with stuff is that they always mess up in the end."

"Now don't black ball," I said to them. "Look at my jacket. I don't even have a ticket. No arrests. No jail time ever. It's not my fault that private investigation is such a dangerous industry, but I'm the victim. I'm making a legal living."

"You have any weapons in that office, Mr. Cruz?" Officer Break asked.

"No. None," I answered confidently.

"A detective without a gun. You really do think we're dumb doofuses?" Officer Break said.

"You can check..."

"So you're secretary didn't punch the man out the window and you're a detective with no guns? It's okay, Mr. Cruz. We have all the statements we need from you and your secretary. Have a nice day. Two deaths from your office within the span of a month. You may not have been in criminal trouble before, but you are clearly wanting to make up for lost time. You have a very good day, sir."

The officer gestured for us to move off.

I could imagine what PJ and I looked like to them. We were two kids standing in front of a parent. The parent knew we did something wrong, but couldn't prove it. But they knew. And our sheepish "not little ol' us" expressions only confirmed it.

"We're going to add your picture on the POI board, Mr. Cruz. You know what that is? Persons of Interest," Officer Break said to us as we walked back into the office tower.

I was not interested in having the increased police scrutiny.

"You have a good day, Mr. Cruz. We'll be seeing you again."

When I got back to our floor, there was the police wrapping the front of my office with police crime tape--again. Dot was waiting in the hallway and gave me a "you're dead to me" look as she brushed past to the elevators. I was officially in the dog house.

Danger was always fun when it remained an idea or the stuff of the hottest television shows. When you have to blow some guy's head off (literally) and watch him fall out the side of a building to keep him from blowing your head off, then danger isn't so fun anymore.

Dot was scared, that's all. She needed time to process what just happened, and she didn't even know that this was the third incident involving assaults with deadly weapons on me in my new detective life. I also needed to process what just happened, almost happened, for the third time.

This time the only way I came out on top was because I had a cyborg secretary acting illegally and my own illegal weapon. Was this what being a detective was all about? Being a borderline criminal to do your job, to stay alive?

I had gone my entire life without ever even getting a speeding ticket. No arrests, no jail time, nothing. No trouble with police, ever. Now I had gotten shot at three times in a space of two weeks! I had to get smart fast, or I'd get dead faster. There were no other options. I was in a job industry right on the ground floor of the city's mean streets. The streets obviously didn't like me.

How did that poem go? "These Mean Streets, Darkly. With its Cornucopia of Clients and Villains, Starkly." It was the opening quote in my
How to be a Great Detective with 100 Rules
that I had now purchased outright to be my industry bible on my newly chosen vocation.

I needed to think about all this carefully. This detective life "ain't no joke," as they say. This was a job that immersed you in the grime and crime of the city and there were no two ways about it. People would be shooting at me and I'd have to shoot back at them. There'd be fisticuffs and all kinds of violence.

Mr. Wilford G. was lucky making it to 92. Me, as a modern-day detective, better get as mean as the mean streets of Metropolis or I'd be meat in the morgue. I had to decide fast. Be a detective and embrace the life, or quit it now and forever. Whatever I decided had to be final. Mr. Wilford G. said it in his book. There's nothing glamorous about this life--nothing. Some felt it
was fantastic, but then they weren't private eyeing for a living.

I took a deep sigh and made the hard decision. I was going to quit. I wasn't cut for this and I was getting married. Dot wasn't cut out for this life. A lot of people would be disappointed, but I was the one dodging bullets. They like it so much, then they could be the detective. I'd go back to my car restoration gigs.

Wait! I couldn't. I already did the full order for all my business cards--and PJ's too. Oh snaps! And the payment was non-refundable.

Chapter 27: Bugs

I knew I didn't have long so I had to make it count. I didn't go home that night, but stayed in the office and made calls. It's exactly when you're down on the ground that people want to kick you. I wasn't going to go out like that. While I camped out in my own office, I must have made almost two dozen calls to contacts all across the city to people I knew. I told them what I wanted and that it was an urgent request.

Recommendations came flowing in and I had a crew knocking on my door before midnight. It was Bugs. He reminded me a lot of the late 92 year old Mr. Wilford G.. The man came in wearing overalls over his purple suit, holding some kind of contraption with one hand and a telescoping wand in the othe
r. H
e was old-school which was exactly why he was so much in demand. Listening device detection, motion detection security, intrusion defense security, video surveillance, door and wall defense security, door and lock augmentation, trap door and panic rooms. He did everything that had to do with office security.

Even Run-Time used him, but Bugs wasn't considered an elite clientele operator. He wasn't even listed in the Yellow Pages, but he was always working--all word-of-mouth. Those in the know knew he was the best and everyone was quite content with keeping the secret amongst themselves. I knew about him because of Dot's boss, Prima Donna, so I felt comfortable talking to him. I didn't want all my legit referrals to come from Run-Time and not-legit referrals to come from Phishy. I had to build my own Rolodex on my own.

Bugs brought his crew--a two man team. It would take them until early morning to finish installing all the equipment in the office, outside the office in the hallway, and all the other spots Bugs said were a must for me to take control of my total office security. I was never going to be sucker shot at in my place of business, inside, coming or going ever again.

While the men worked, I kept my head buried in the books studying my newfound vocation, specifically, private investigation and the law. I needed to know it as well as criminals knew it when talking to law enforcement. I needed to know where the legal line was so I could avoid it, or, when needed, know when was safe to step over. Technically, I was a borderline criminal anyway, operating as an unlicensed detective with illegal weapons and a cyborg secretary who was barred legally from using her bionic arms to sort out any variety of low-lives in her way.

My feet were up on my desk, books stacked up on my desk, and my mobile computer in my lap, when PJ peeked in. Strangely, she was always on time.

"Who are all these men?" PJ never said good morning.

"They'll be finished soon. Have Bugs show you the controls for the buzzer and your workstation has a three video monitors now. One for outside the door, one showing the ground floor entrance, and the third shows our elevator."

"You won't have any money left after all this. You better get new clients so you can pay me."

"When I have legit clients coming up here, no punching. The police have us both flagged now. Things they let us slide before, they won't now."

"What about metal detectors for the door? These men going to do that?"

"They did that already. Have Bugs show you that, too. And they installed some secret compartments too, for weapons."

"I want to keep my rifle under the desk handy. It will do me no good hiding in a secret compartment. I need it next to my hand for quick-draw situations. I don't have that fancy pop-gun like you."

"Wear long sleeves and you can have one too."

"I hate long sleeves. Long sleeves are for squares. I got nice arms and they deserved to be shown off. If punks see the muscles, they won't be quick to cause any trouble."

"You want to show off fake arms with fake muscles."

"Ah, you're just jealous. Go get someone to cut off your arms and you can have cool arms too."

"Have Bugs give you all the entry codes for the door and alarm system. And the bypass code for the metal detector arch. I don't want it going off every time you walk under it."

"What about your girlfriend? She'd set off the metal detector too."

"I got that handled."

"What about cyborgs with that new fancy non-metal metal bionics?"

"The metal detector detects all metals and all alloys. They can't make bionics from wood or glass yet, so we're covered."

"What about plastic? That's what they use Up-Top. I don't expect higher-end clients and criminals to come into this dump, but you might as well get your money's worth."

"Nah, they say it's plastic, but it's an alloy. To be as strong as it has to be, it has to be an alloy, not any cheapie plastic they use for toys and average hover-cars. And Up-Top doesn't use bionics, they use
biotics.
They grow body parts in hospitals."

"We don't have that down here, this cheapskate planet. But it's okay because bionics is better. Cyborgs are superheroes, not squares like Up-Top."

"Forget Up-Top. Just don't get caught illegally using those bionic arms or you'll get thrown in jail again! You can't get paid a salary from jail."

It was an hour later when I realized the madness that was Punch Judy and I talking about nothing. Bugs was done and he was the one who interrupted us. He led PJ back to her workstation first to show her all the modifications and controls. It took him about forty minutes to show her the full scope of her power over all things security, before Bugs returned to my office.

"Punch!" I yelled as Bugs's eyebrows rose.

"What?" She popped into my office and I threw the box to her.

"The business cards," I said.

She looked at the box, smiled, and disappeared.

"Sorry about that. We're a shouting office."

Bugs chuckled. "I noticed."

"How does it all look?" I asked.

"You'll be able to hold your own against even a full-scale office invasion."

"That's what I need."

"We're also taking care of all of the wire maintenance. This building is centuries old, so we have to bury all the circuitry really deep to keep it away from the bundle mess of every other floor, and businesses that don't even exist anymore, but the wires are still there. So keep an eye on that. But only if you see issues with operating performance. You don't need to do anything else beyond that. You really are spending a lot of cash on all this."

"Don't remind me. Do you need me to walk through everything again?"

"I'll walk you through everything again and you can tell me if I miss anything for you."

"That'll be fine."

"He dug into his pocket and produced a small wooden box. "And I can't forget this."

He handed me the box and I looked at him. "Do I open it?"

"All the systems I use are analog. I don't trust that Up-Top, digital, supposedly-the-state-of-the-art technology. You want to rob me, then you're going to have to come right up to my place to do it. Not some hack with you in your underpants from a far, far away land. Do not bring any digital technology into this office. But if you do, use what's in the little box."