Liquid Cool: The Cyberpunk Detective Series (42 page)

"This is the police! Drop your weapons!"

The voice rumbled through the air and seemed to be coming from the heavens above as if spoken by God. Silver-and-black police "PEACE" officers descended from the sky via their silent jet-packs like black rain, blitzing the ground with more intense gunfire than seemed possible.

These gang members had really stepped in it. To us, it seemed like world war with 500 of them firing at us six guys, but now 500,000 jet-packed police--thousands of points of light--descended from the black sky firing at them! It was a bloodbath. I was certain that every gang gunman was hit dozens of times by police gunfire and they were still taking solid and laser rounds. Bodies collapsing to the ground; their hover-cars shot apart and exploding. This wasn't world war, it was the End of the World for the Animal Farm Crime Syndicate. Hub's two sons had brought the Cavalry to the rescue all right, with not a moment to spare. I had never ever, ever, ever seen so many cops in the sky before--no one had.

Whoever Monkey Baker was, he was done. His Animal Farm Syndicate was done. The Metro Police were going to track every last one of them down until everyone last one was dead or in jail. Monkey Baker wasn't going to have time to think about me ever again, let alone come after me. A smile crept onto my face as I watched the silver-and-black event before my eyes. A few police incursions like this in key points of the city and Metropolis would be crime-free...well for a week at least.

"How did you learn to shoot so well," one of Hub's sons asked me, almost annoyed by the fact.

"Video games," I answered.

Securing the scene was elevated to an insane new level. The entire street was locked down and that meant twenty miles, in either direction, on the ground with a human net of hovering police in the air. I couldn't even comprehend how the coroner's department would clear a body count of this magnitude. Exe said there was a time that criminals were killing 10,000 people a weekend. Such numbers were beyond my ability to grasp. That was too many innocent faces. Hopefully, the cosmic scales had been balanced a bit today.

The standard procedure was done and officers started walking to me. The sight of what amounted to a ground armada of silver-and-black peace officers approaching me...I couldn't swallow hard enough, but at least I knew they were on my side. Chief Hub and sons must have been soiling themselves and I noticed how they got closer and closer to me as the crowd approached.

"You!" It was Wilford G. Jr. He pulled off his half-visor helmet. "We're glad you have a death wish, because that wish will be granted."

"Why do you think we're here?" Hub yelled back. "You jokers weren't providing proper protection."

"Protection? We saved your asses," an officer yelled back.

"If you all hadn't abandoned the city, this would never have happened!"

"Abandoned? Says the man who let his own officers get gunned down," a female officer yelled.

"I had nothing to do with it!"

The officers had engulfed us and every one of them had their long guns in hand. I could see the sweat pouring down the side of Hub's face. A hover-van descended slowly and I could see Wilford G. Jr. and the others gesture for the officers to clear a space. The vehicle landed a couple of feet from me and the door opened. Inside were families--adults and kids from toddlers to teenagers.

"Mr. Cruz," one of the women said. "We've been trying to get you to come to us, but it seems with your busy life it's better and easier to come to you. My husband was one of the officers killed at the Sweet Street Shoot-Out."

She and the other spouses introduced themselves.

"Why is the murderer here?" one of the women in the hover-van yelled looking at Wilford G. Jr.

"I am not a murderer," Chief Hub answered back. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Is your Mayor master going to have those Up-Top spaceships try to take over the planet?" said another widow. "We're going to blast them from the sky."

"I have nothing to do with the Mayor or them either," Hub answered.

"Tell me, Mr. Cruz," asked one of the widowers holding his little son's hand, "Are you going to identify everyone involved in this plot? Are you going to tell us the masterminds behind the death of my boy's mother? The mastermind behind the death of all our loved ones?"

"I am," I answered.

"Is he one them?" he asked, pointing directly at Chief Hub.

If I were evil, I could have lied and Hub and Sons would never have left that street alive. But I was a good guy, so I couldn't, but it was interesting to feel what true temptation to the dark side felt like. Hub undoubtedly was holding his breath. One word from me truly could end his life.

"No, not him," I said. "He's just a scumbag who wanted to play politics. There's another who's the mastermind. Or the co-mastermind. The criminal animal gang leader, Red was one. This person is the other half. And their time is coming to an end soon. However, before I concentrate on finishing the job, I must ask: can you all secure the city first? People are hiding in their homes and businesses. They can't walk the streets in safety. People can't send their kids to school. I know you haven't had a chance to do any tours, but Metropolis is a ghost town. The criminal punks think they run the city now and not you. Can you take care of that? I'll take care of my end. Can that happen?" I looked at the widower holding his son's hand. "This city doesn't need any more widows, widowers, or orphans."

The families in the hover-van and the officers looked at each other.

Wilford G. Jr. Spoke up, "We can do that, but not him!" He pointed at Hub.

"I'm no fan of the Chief. He and the Mayor tried to destroy my life, but he did save my life. I don't know if his motives were pure. Probably not, but if he wasn't backing me, I'd be dead, period."

"Let's do what the man says and restore order to the city," Hub said. "If you want to get me, then all you have to do is organize a recall or demand the Mayor replace me or replace the Mayor, but not this."

"This was the only way to break through the cover-up," one of the widows said.

"I don't disagree, but my way would have accomplished the same thing," Hub said.

"Yeah, if we wanted to wait for the next twenty years," another officer said

"It would have taken time, but it would have happened," Hub said back.

"But then the people responsible are never the ones who pay for misdeeds," Wilford G. Jr. Said.

"You want my job?" Hub asked him directly. "We can switch jobs right now. Say the word."

Wilford's expression said it all. He was not interested, nor was anyone else.

"Being a revolutionary is easy," Hub said. "Running a department of 500,000 men and women in a 50 million super-city is a far different thing. My humble suggestion is that we send 90% of the forces to do what the man says and take the remaining 10% with me back to City Hall and get those Up-Top spaceships off our planet! That should be acceptable to everyone because if there's a possibility of any real violence, City Hall is where that will be. Maybe you'll get what you want after all and I'll get shot for real there."

The two sides stared at each other. I had to get the ball rolling.

"Can someone escort me to my hover-limo?" I asked. "It's not what it sounds like. It's donated. And a guy like me with a red Ford Pony can't exactly drive around incognito. Let's bring this whole matter to an end and get the real bad guy."

It worked. Cops volunteered. I knew the tension wasn't going to go away soon, if ever, but at least the city could get its streets back.

Chapter 61: Police Watch

As I sat in hover-limo with Flash at the wheel and two police cruisers following as escorts, I reflected how this whole mess unfolded. Run-Time gave me a simple gig and it snowballed into this. Since I planned to make this my new permanent career, I hoped that this was a once in a lifetime event. I don't think my nerves could handle any repeats.

"Oh, Mr. Cruz?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Run-Time is sending his security to meet you at the Watch Division."

"The cops are protecting me now."

"You can never have too much security."

I nodded. "After today, never a more true statement was spoken."

We arrived at Police Watch Division and there was Run-Time's VP, the Mick, waiting. He had a compact machine gun in hand and behind him were no less than a dozen armed men. I exited the elevator capsule and he spoke into his cupped left hand. He lowered his hand as he approached me and the two police officers with me.

"I'm leading
Mr. Run-Time's additional private security for Mr. Cruz. Everyone calls me the Mick,
" he said to the officers.

"Officer Break and my partner Officer Caps."

"If I may suggest a security strategy," the Mick said. "I will maintain a close detail on Mr. Cruz. My men can take positions in the hall and secure the restrooms on the floor. You can maintain security of the main elevators."

Officer Break nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Mr. Cruz," the Mick said to me and gestured me to follow.

I didn't like this at all and couldn't wait for life to return to normal. Bodyguards were supposed to be an as-needed thing, not a permanent part of life. Politicians, rock stars, and gazillionaires could keep the life. I wanted no part of it.

We arrived.

Exe may have been worried but she was one of those people who had an outgoing demeanor that radiated congeniality. She walked me through the underground watch room of the division. I was being given a tour of a place most people had never and would never see, which in itself seemed strange. The civilian Police Watch Commission was made up of only civilians to protect civilians but the civilian population had no oversight over them.

Weeks ago, when I was doing my own informal survey of the Police Watch Commission, I called a random sampling of criminal defense lawyers from the Yellow Pages. I made up a cover-story that I was some victim who wanted to sue the police. They all laughed at me. One lawyer put it to me succinctly, "Body-cams on police monitored by the civilian Police Watch Commission made the City legally bullet-proof." Police brutality criminal cases were nearly impossible to prove, even before the body-came regime. The main reason wasn't even police protecting their own or political cover-ups, but because civilian juries wanted police to beat up criminals. But that left the domain of civil cases, which was where trial attorneys lived and, for ages, became filthy rich suing the police. But that was a long time ago.

There was the main executive committee of the Police Watch Commission, who maintained their watching duties, but there were tens of thousands of watchers on duty at any given time manning the body-cam feed from police in the field. Police were not allowed to engage in any contact with the public or suspect without an active body-cam interface. It wasn't police procedure; it was mandated by the Police Union contract.

Everyone in the City knew someone who was on the police watch commission, if even they didn't realize the fact. All 500,000 active police in the city were not on the streets at any given time (except the unfortunate animal gang skells who tried to assassinate me earlier), but even with being off-duty, on vacation, or in the station doing work, nearly 100,000 were in the field. And that is actually how many police watchers were here at the Division plugged in.

Exe pointed to an old picture on the wall just before she introduced me to her colleagues. It was over thirty years old and showed a younger and more slender Exe. Everyone in the photos was there in the room as she introduced me. There was
Cisco, who as twenty-something pseudo radical looked rather cool with his ponytail, but as a sixty-something, with practically all his natural hair receding to the point of invisibility, his ponytail looked rather silly--kind of like a seventy-year old with a twenty-year old buxom girlfriend. Let's be age appropriate, shall we? There was Mr. Link and Mz. Mosaic. Exe had an afro too in her youth but she let that go a long time past. Mz. Mosaic still had hers, tall, fluffy, and who knows how much time she spent having it dyed black. Of course, her eyebrows were her natural gray. Mr. Link wo
re these old zoot suits that I remember wannabe gangsters used to hang out on the street wearing. They looked synthetic and cheap on them, and looked the same on this old guy too. Every member of the executive board was some type of social radical in their youth, but here they were in their sixties and seventies still trying to maintain the fiction, except for Exe. It was real back then when they were started, but it was all show now. They were all so booshy with their mansion-sized apartments, multi-hover-cars, when they weren't being chauffeured around by hover-limo, all their kids well-placed in society, their grandchildren attending the best universities. I didn't like fake people, which was one reason for me to like Exe. She didn't pretend to be something she wasn't anymore.

"And the President of the Commission, Mr. Stone," Exe introduced last.

"Ah, the thin man," I said.