Sucker Punch (3 page)

J
oe watched
Vi move out of sight, then turned back to the corpse. There was much to puzzle him about this death. Why had ‘it' chosen not to torture this victim to death?

It would have needed to take care here where everyone is housed so close together,
Lurch reminded him.
Screaming would attract unwelcome attention.

It could have muffled the sounds.

Then I would postulate that Jimbo was not alone when it decided to egress the body. Possibly a third person was present?

And if Jimbo died screaming within minutes of that person leaving…

Exactly.

Jimbo was fortunate that its need for stealth exceeded its need to torture its host to death.

Indeed.

Lurch sounded as sober as Joe remembered it ever sounding. No question the events on the surface during the storm had sobered them both. Joe had lacked time since the storm to question the nanite on just how it hoped to eliminate the threat their enemy posed, not just to this place, but to who knew how many universes. It was clear he'd failed to ask the right questions when the nanite proposed their partnership. Not that he was certain he'd have known the right questions. “Will I die in screaming agony?” hadn't been on the list, though it was now.

Can you look around very slowly?

Lurch would be looking for evidence of time stream activity. It was Joe's research that made it possible for them to track ‘it' to this world. Before Joe's discovery, the time stream was a great place to hide, particularly for a nanite-controlled human. Joe was not sure how Lurch had learned of his research into time stream tracking. It had nanites in many places, he'd learned after their blending. All of Joe's “training,” in this world and the others where they'd hunted, came from program downloads from Lurch—programs designed from the knowledge of previous hosts, Joe had gradually realized. Joe could only marvel at the wealth of knowledge he'd glimpsed during their time together, though he hadn't liked it at first. The sense of becoming something other than himself had been unsettling. And Joe wondered if streaming vids of
Dragnet
had been meant to be helpful or a joke. Lurch did have an odd sense of humor.

A sense of humor that seemed to enjoy watching Joe fall for Vi. Why it did that when it knew Joe couldn't keep her—Joe tensed as he realized that if it had entered the stream, then the “not keeping her” would start now. With increased concern, he finished his slow, visual scan of the interior of the tent.

No sign of time stream activity in here.

Would it have risked disappearing outside?
Joe knew the ‘it' was quite willing to take big risks, but that seemed excessive.

Probably not, but we still need to assess. We can't afford not to.

It was true that the trail would degrade rapidly. How odd that time was of the essence even in relation to the time stream.

The tech Vi had handed him beeped, then produced another set of preliminary results. Joe did not mind the interruption to his thoughts. Lurch also indicated it had completed the data collection phase, so he triggered the body bag to commence the collection process.

He moved out of range as the bag made course adjustments until it had centered itself over the corpse. Straps shot from the bag toward the body, going under it, then pushing beneath and connecting and contracting. The body rose toward the bag until it was snug, then the bag itself rotated until the body was face up. He left it hovering within the partial cover of the tent and scrambled out.

The open air was a relief after the stuffy interior. The crowd had mostly dispersed, moving in the general direction of the sustenance point of the distribution platform, some also moving toward the primitive sanitation structures. He turned in a slow circle, trying to keep it casual, so that Lurch could look for time stream activity and capture the faces for later analysis, just in case ‘it' was still here, waiting and watching. He would not want to linger in this place, but it had apparently lingered for some time down on the surface. This might be marginally better. Joe looked past the faces now, scanning the horizon and the drifting blocks of what had probably been some of the Garden District.

Based on what he knew of the mansions, if the inhabitants were in them, they would not be enjoying their current view of the FEMA MEC.

They are most likely enjoying a view far from this place.

Joe conceded this point to Lurch. Those that could had evacuated during the run up to the storm. Looting had not, up to now been much of a concern, but he would imagine that given time, those houses would look quite tempting to those camping here.

Once they can spare the people, I suspect the police presence here will be increased.

It made sense. Presently people were too shell shocked to be too much trouble. And their basic needs were being met. It would not take long for that to change. He'd seen the longing for home in her eyes, heard the desire for a return to normal in Vi's voice. When that didn't happen quickly, shock would be replaced with anger.

It was something he could understand.

I am sorry I got you into this.

Joe watched Vi returning and found he could not be as sorry as he should be. Which might be one reason Lurch encouraged Joe's interest in his partner.

Vi took his arm and turned him away from the remnants of their crowd. “Let me see that report for a minute,” she said. He extended the tech, and she scrolled rapidly through the results, then made a face. “Just as I thought. Jimbo wasn't a harmless dirt sider. He was cooking meth down there somewhere.”

“Meth?”

“It's a very, very old school recreational drug, a lot cheaper to make than some of the designer drugs, so the profit margin is higher.”

Lurch filled in the historical details for him as Joe said, “But wouldn't the scanners—” He stopped at her ironic look.

“At the corner of New Broom and Political Expediency you'll usually find a streetcar named Graft.”

Joe lowered his voice further, casting a look around before asking, “Did your witness admit to seeing someone?”

“Wouldn't have if she'd known who she saw. I ran some mugshots past her. She picked Afoniki out of the lineup.”

Joe knew enough about the crime family to be impressed. “He was not alone.”

Vi looked surprised. “No, he wasn't.”

“That is most probably why the death was so…benign.”

“A good reason to never be alone with anyone. Ever again.” She frowned down at the device. “I wish we'd managed to save the post mortem data from our dirt side adventures. There's a lot of chemicals in and on old Jimbo. I wonder how many of them are consistent with, you know, your friend. Maybe we could come up with a test or at least a way to track—”

Joe put a hand on the device. “May I?” She relinquished her hold, and he scrolled through the data until—the chemical he used to track it through the time stream—he tipped it so she could see it, his eyes filled with warnings. Her nod was slight, her gaze sober.

“Let's get him to the morgue.”

Joe triggered the commands and followed her down the ramp, the body bag humming softly in their wake.

“If it is Afoniki,” she said, “that could be very bad. The combo of über criminal and über evil whatever…yeah, that can't be good.” She stopped as a very sleek, very dark transport hovered over theirs, then dropped down with no apparent interest in the “no LZ” painted into the grid. “That might be bad, too.”

“Who is—are they?” He modified the question as two men slid out in well-coordinated synch. They were of the same height and similarly dressed in soberly crisp suits. Their eye wear was also the same and reflected as well as deflected the sunlight.

“It's the MITSC—they used to be the Men in Black, but people started to catch on so now they are the Men in Top Secret Colors. The color is supposed to randomly change, so we won't recognize them. And you can be arrested for saying whatever color they are wearing out loud.” She shook her head. “Like they wouldn't stand out no matter what color they wear.”

“They…monitor…extraterrestrials,” Joe said, uneasily, after Lurch once more filled in the information gaps for him.

“Let me do the talking. But have your papers ready, just in case.” She glanced around. “At least there are a lot of witnesses.”

The eyes on them were significant, but Joe was not certain that would provide any advantage if these men wanted to make him disappear.

Could they know? Suspect?

I am uncertain,
Lurch said, though with more curiosity than worry.
Interesting. They look almost the same, though with less black.
As it finally picked up on Joe's deep worry, it added,
if they attempt to seize us, we can enter the time stream.

It didn't need to add that neither of them wanted this outcome, though not for exactly the same reasons.

It was clear Lurch had had dealings with them before, but Joe did not—yet again—have time for questions. The two agents watched their approach with a somewhat troubling lack of movement. When they were close enough, each man thrust a hand into the interior of his jacket, extracted IDs and extended them in a blur of movement that made sure they lacked time to see, let alone process them. The IDs were thrust back in the jackets. Then the lips of one of the men moved.

“We'll be taking over, Detectives.”

“Taking over what?”

The other man indicated Jimbo's remains with a head movement. At least Joe hoped it was Jimbo that interested them.

For a long moment, Vi didn't move or speak, just stared at them.

“We'll need all the data you've collected as well.”

So it was the body that interested them.

“You're not taking our body bag or our tech.”

It did not appear that either of them moved, but the rear of their transport opened and a sleeker, darker body bag zipped out, stopped smoothly next to theirs. Straps shot from it and theirs retreated as if burned. The body transferred swiftly, the bag not just taking possession, but a shroud of some kind slid over Jimbo, hiding him from view. The bag paused by Joe and something like their tech, only better, disconnected from the side of the bag. At Vi's nod, Joe extended their tech. There was brief connection, then it retracted again and the bag slid back into their transport.

Joe looked down at the tech. It blinked back at him with a “memory empty” notification.

There was a silence, then one of the men spoke. “This is no longer your crime scene, detectives. Move along.”

“
D
o
you think they are after…your friend, too?” Vi waited until they were airborne before speaking.

She looked around as if she suspected the sky was listening in on them. He could not blame her. Joe gave the question careful consideration. He knew that Lurch always feared being tracked. It was why it worked so hard to obscure its origins. It was the First of the nanites, and had it remained the first and only, this quest would not be so challenging. Its memory went back a very long way, and he was not sure he'd seen the beginning of it yet. It had exceeded the original nanite programming when it became sentient, though Joe was unclear how it began replicating, or the mechanics involved. Lurch easily created drones—non-sentient versions of itself—but sentient replication was a much more complicated process, he felt sure.

There was a further mystery surrounding Wynken, Blynken and Nod, a deeper connection there that stretched back deep into the past. Joe knew this more by how Lurch reacted when any of the three nanites were mentioned, though he had gotten brief glimpses into the past when they were integrating. The loss of Blynken had hit it hard, so Joe tried not to think about it any more than he had to. The fact that Blynken had been killed by Nod was a source of both pain and fear. If Nod could be corrupted by a rogue program, then might not all the nanites also be at risk? This was, Joe knew, the deepest, darkest core of its fear. And why Lurch hunted so hard to find the co-opted Nod and stop it.

“It is more likely they are tracking the trace substances left behind.” It was the only thing that the nanites could not control, the telltale signs of passing from one host to another. If the MITSC were tracking it, or even suspected its presence, well, it would be most dangerous for those two agents no matter what special governmental resources the MITSC could call upon.

“If they find out about our witness, they'll go pay Afoniki a visit,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Pretending to investigate the murder. If it's just the substance that interests them, then who knows what they will do.”

Tiredness lingered in her face, but the huntress in her showed signs of life.

“Do we know how to locate Afoniki? Would he not have evacuated prior to the storm?”

“We always know how to locate Afoniki. He's had an ankle bracelet on him since he was like, fourteen.”

Joe did not understand why the court ordered tracking device was called that. It was an implanted chip, not a bracelet and it was no where near his ankle.

She bit her lower lip. “Of course, he probably knows a way around it. He's got a bigger budget than we do. But if he'd been expecting trouble, he'd never have gone near Jimbo. He has people for that.”

“Is your witness quite certain it was Afoniki?”

“Picked him out without prompting. He's a good looking guy.”

Joe felt a stab of something in the region of his heart. “It is possible he was less concerned, because of the storm.” Many services had been disrupted during WTF. Joe felt certain that keeping track of Afoniki's location had not been a high priority during the height of the storm—which would make it a good time to commit a murder. But he hadn't. He'd waited for Jimbo to surface and gone to talk to him. “How did he know where to find Jimbo?”

“Jimbo probably used a FEMA phone to contact him. They've been handing them out with the meals and water. We can probably track it down if the men who used to wear black aren't one step ahead of us.”

“We did not find such a phone at the scene.” Had it been pilfered by someone or had Afoniki taken it when he'd been assimilated by it?

“Don't know why anyone there would grab it. They've probably all got one.”

It has a vested interest in making that record go away, too,
Lurch pointed out.

That might be more suspicious than the visit,
Joe countered.

Or it wishes us to locate it again.

Joe didn't ask why ‘it' would do that. It had demonstrated severely erratic behavior during the storm. The only certainty about it was that it would kill and continue to kill until they stopped it.

She gave him a speculative look. “Can Lurch take us off the grid? Just until we find out if the men in drab are heading for Afoniki.”

Joe felt his mouth turn up in a grin. “It has it, er, covered.”

Vi's grin almost stopped his heart. “I think I love Lurch.”

Was it possible to be jealous of a nanite? Before he could answer that question, Vi spoke again.

“So how do we tell if he's, you know…?”

Joe sighed. “If we had the answer to that question, I would not have almost shot you during the storm.”

“Oh right. And touching…”

“…will expose it, but it also exposes Lurch to it.”

“You can't go around shooting people you think are hosting it. There has to be a way to figure out who—” her voice trailed off and she was silent for several seconds. “What about those substances? Are they only left there after death?”

“They are present at integration,” Joe said, shifting a bit uncomfortably. The fact that the MITSC might have identified and were tracking the substance was unsettling, since his body also had them. “But confirming their presence requires contact.”

Vi turned to look at him, cautious hope in her eyes. “Maybe not. You see, Afoniki's ankle bracelet also tests him regularly for drugs. Unless he's figured out a way to fake that, which he probably has. But—the tests must still happen or appear to happen.” She frowned. “We'd need to be careful, though…make sure the boys in drab don't get notified, too. They are way too close for comfort.”

I am on it.
Lurch sounded the most hopeful he had in, well, Joe wasn't sure how long, but certainly as long as they'd been partners.

“So if he is the one, then how do we stop him and you know, save Nod?”

Lurch flinched, hard enough to cause Joe to clench his hands. The skimmer swerved. He quickly corrected his course. But she'd noticed.

“You can't just kill him—it?” she asked.

“Do you not think Lurch has tried to find a way? The risk is too great. There is no evidence that Nod still exists as a separate and distinct entity.”

“But what's the evidence that Nod doesn't?”

“The murders. The torture. The fact that it killed Blynken. Nod would not willingly participate in such things. Lurch attests to this. It has known Nod the longest, knew it the best. It would fight, would have fought until defeated.”

Silence for at least a minute.

“
Wynken, Blynken and Nod,
one night sailed off in a wooden shoe
…”

Joe blinked.

“Were there three?” she asked.

“Yes. Three separate personalities, but all living in a single host at, well, birth.” Why had he almost used the word “decanting?” He was unsure, but noted it felt right. “That was their designations, their names,” he admitted, wondering how she had discerned this.

“Do…you know…did they pick their own names?”

Joe felt Lurch's affirmative, which made him wonder about its name. “Yes, they do.”

“Interesting.
Sailed on a river of crystal light, into a sea of dew
…that's from a nursery rhyme. About setting sail, well, on the surface. Actually it's about sleeping, dreaming…” Her voice trailed off. She gave a shake. “So they split up and that's when it happened?”

“Lurch postulates that had they not separated, that by combining their strength, they might have prevailed over the rogue program. That what had been their strength became instead, their weakness.”

She blinked at this, but to his relief didn't ask how Lurch knew this.

“What about Wynken?”

“Wynken was damaged trying to save Blynken.”

Silence.

“Nod…”

He nodded. “Wynken is…recovering.” Mourning. Possibly damaged beyond repair, according to Lurch.

“I'm sorry.” She sounded sorry. “But doesn't that make it even more important to try and save Nod?”

Joe sighed. “It was while attempting this that Wynken was injured.”

Another silence. “Oh.” She slanted him a wry look, said as if trying to ease the tension, “Sometimes you sound more like a scientist than a cop.” She chuckled.

He managed to echo something he hoped sounded like a chuckle. He had played many roles during the hunt for it, but at his core he was a scientist. That she'd sensed this was disquieting and yet not unpleasant. He had believed he would dislike playing a cop, but it had many advantages he had not foreseen. He glanced at one advantage and almost sighed. He had lost much of his detachment during the storm.

Much? Assuming you had some before….

Do you have an update for me?
Joe was most eager to change the subject.

Afoniki is scheduled for a drug test in thirty-seven minutes. If it has taken him over, it would notice the test being moved up. So we must wait for the regular test window.

He took a mental breath, trying to get his thoughts back on task.
Does that give you enough time to prepare?

I believe so. No need to rush to his location.

And if it is inside Afoniki?

I believe I can use the access to upload a disabling virus. I have been working on it, but did not know how to safely deliver it.

Joe had been aware that killing ‘it' might kill them. This was a most hopeful development, if it didn't detect and disable the virus.

I would advise a policy of distraction when we arrive. If it is distracted, it will give me more time. And the virus time….

Joe glanced at Vi. Based on the last time he'd seen Vi question Afoniki, distracting would not be a problem.

A
foniki had a nice place
, though his view, like the rest of NON, had been shifted by WTF. It had originally been located in the Warehouse District, snugged up against where the river would have been before the rising. Based on his current location, his riverfront property had moved up river. Even moved, his view wouldn't be that different. The river was the river. A muddy ribbon winding through varying shades of deep green. But his neighbors had changed. Vi recognized a Bucktown restaurant off to the right that had also shifted out of place during the storm and some low rent property off the left side.

In the old days, the ground floor had been used for utilitarian purposes, probably loading and unloading ships, and the upper floors were about the esthetics, but the super rich had transparent first floors these days, so they could take advantage of the dirt side views, too. So, even shifted, he still got some of the benefit of being riverfront in more ways than one. Since he hadn't moved too far out of place, Vi suspected he had better thrusters. Probably could have held his air space if it hadn't been for collision problems during the storm.

Vi had a feeling that if Afoniki wanted his old address back, he'd probably get it. Shouldn't be a problem for him. He'd know who could get it done and how much it would cost him. With the taxpayers picking up the bulk of the tab, of course.

She popped her door, letting the thick, hot air rush in and clambered out against it. Her door slid down, and she looked at Joe across the skimmer.

“So how do we play this?” Vi wished they were going on a date instead of into a potentially life-threatening meeting with an evil something or other. “We don't have a crime, thanks to the men in super secret drab.” It felt kind of anti-something to be going in without a crime. Upset the delicate balance between the good guys and the bad. “We can't just stop by to check on him. He and ‘it' would smell a rat.”

“We found many chemicals and organics on Jimbo. Perhaps…a contamination issue?”

Vi considered this. “It could work, not for long, but hopefully long enough.”

“We just need to keep him talking, distracted for about ten more minutes,” Joe said, setting his watch.

Ten minutes. Surely she could blather on for ten minutes. Best case would be getting Afoniki talking, but he pretty much had a “no talking in front of the cops” rule. He even resisted admitting that his name was Afoniki.

An escalator wound up to the middle of the structure, like a corkscrew, taking visitors to where all the utilitarian stuff happened. His property even had power, she noted, when the escalator activated at the pressure of her foot on the bottom step. It was interesting, though sadly, not illegal. He was allowed to have emergency power. She rose smoothly, the corkscrew of the stair oddly soothing. It also made the air move, which was nice.

They entered into a setup that appeared benign. Could have been any business reception area. It was discreetly classy, though currently tended by a goon instead of a benignly elegant female. Vi, going out on a mental limb, postulated she'd been unable to get to work. Even a bad guy couldn't control Mom Nature. Though she'd bet money she didn't have that he'd tried.

It was cooler and smelled better than outside. The storm had for sure stirred up the muck at the bottom of the swamp. She angled her head, pretending to look at some artwork, and took a cautious sniff of herself. Maybe the gently moving air would help dissipate what the storm had stirred up at the bottom of her armpits. At least she didn't have a habit of shaking hands with Afoniki, so she could keep her distance. She tried to identify the good scent, but all she come up with was: expensive.

She recognized the goon filling in at reception. And he knew her. They exchanged looks of mutual…something. Wasn't respect. Might have been a bit of “I'm not here to arrest you so don't make me change my mind” on her side. His gaze had some “I ain't done nothing, so don't get your knickers in a twist” to it. His gaze shifted to Joe. He'd made the news when he arrived, but she didn't think they'd arrested the goon since Joe's arrival, so he might not have seen Joe up close before. Joe's cool gaze must have made him uneasy, because he pressed a button and a door slid open with a pricey-sounding whoosh. Vi kept her eyes on the goon until he looked away and the door closed between them.