The Unsung Frame, page 16
part #2 of The Synth Crisis Series
“Lur’s been compromised,” he whispered. “They’ve had her all this time, and I’m lying here on the bed.”
He checked his watch for the time, and saw that it was 10:45 a.m. He had flown back from Tokyo the night before, studied Jordan’s files until he’d fallen asleep, then looked them over early in the morning before calling Lur, who didn’t answer.
Hiro’s tracker had placed her somewhere in Miami, so he pulled up his own tracker inside of her ID chip. She was in the same place, near the water, so he synced it to his ICL and locked in the location for the drive. He sighed, worried, and rubbed his face. I’m probably too late, he thought.
He opened his closet to scan his collection of clothes, then grabbed his detective’s coat and a fedora. As he walked past the mirror it dawned on him that he looked the way he did when he worked for the police department. It sent chills down his spine, remembering how he felt back then; it was so different from the loneliness that he felt now. Back then he was a law officer, fighting for the citizens of Tampa Bay, and now he was a dangerous professional with vendetta on his mind.
Pulling open his weapon’s cache, he grabbed the sawed-off shotgun, strapped it to his cybernetic thigh, and then clipped the tube to his hip. He slid the revolver into a holster on his belt, then slid it around to his back where it would remain concealed.
When he walked outside, he took a long look at the zeppelin, if he wasn’t coming back it would be a waste of a good home. He wrote a message to Hiroshi, giving him the codes and letting him know that the zeppelin was his if ever he needed to get away.
Dhata always viewed jazz as a representation of his life; the spirit and soul behind the music always spoke to him. The organic nature of the music was akin to the chaos that was his work. The stuttering horn was complemented by a piano, all while a drummer kept it together in the background. Then there was the saxophonist, the man the listeners remembered … which was him in this instance, on his way to play his greatest solo.
Sentimental Feeling by John Coltrane was the song he chose as the first of many classic songs that would relax him on the trip. He thought about soldiers like Jordan and Tyler who had gone to war several times. Did they feel the way he did now—the out-of-body feeling that he was experiencing—or did their heart race uncontrollably, knowing that it could be their last ride?
Unlike the hools that Dhata faced and lived to tell about it, if the people who held Lur were the FBI, it would be a different sort of battle. These would be trained gunmen who spent time on the range. Hools trained on the job, terrorizing people who didn’t often shoot back.
Just last year he had shot and killed over seven gangsters in the Fischer Mob. They were farmers who bullied their way into the rackets, so against a trained ex-detective, they were little more than moving targets. Now he was out of his element, going up against an unknown, and they would more than likely match him in skill.
There was an element of luck that he would have to rely on, luck that should have run out by now. Then there was Lur. Was she still alive? Was she being tortured somewhere and questioned? She was probably dead, and he was on his way to meet her hacked out implant surrounded by several hired guns. This didn’t bother him as it should, his mind a numb tunnel of action, so he settled back into his seat and rested his eyes for what was to come.
Miami had seen the worst of the War for Peace, being that Florida stuck out from the mainland like an appendage. It saw most of the bombings, which left craters in the ground, and what used to be a sprawling beach town now looked like a wasteland.
One of these massive craters had destroyed the highway, and there was no way into the city from the physical road. Dhata was forced to stop and hail a flying taxi to have it take him above the lip of this bombed out cliff. The taxi looked like a yellow disc with lights on the top and bottom. It landed near the Buick and a door slid up, inviting him in to sit.
Inside of the taxi were soft seats wrapped around a central console. There was a thick smog that hid the dome of new Miami, and Dhata realized quickly why he hadn’t seen it on approach. There was a system for entering in and out of the dome, and the taxi flew down next to a panel, and upon transmitting ID, a hatch opened on the translucent surface.
Inside the sprawling city was a beautiful contradiction to the outside. The synths who worked on it had dug deep into the ground, building high-rises that they now flew over. It was a shower of loud, techno-pop music, and beautiful neon spot lights that danced around randomly.
As Dhata’s eyes followed the buildings down to what would be considered the ground, he saw a lively hub of civilization. It reminded him of Atlanta, and to a lesser extent Tokyo, with the ads everywhere and the party atmosphere. It was as if the city was a part of its own world. The false sky allowed them to have this illusion and kept them in perpetual night.
The taxi floated down to the curb near where Lur’s beacon was flashing, and he stepped outside and straightened his clothes, awed by what he was seeing.
Miami had always been known for beautiful people, and the reputation still held. Long-legged women in leather pants, and tops that left nothing to the imagination. The men, mostly shirtless, some wearing cod pieces, revealed the sexuality of the culture. “I’m bringing death and pain to paradise,” he remarked, smiling at the irony.
He unhooked the electroshock tube and held it close to his leg, then touched the panel near the door of the big black building to enter. It slid open to a short man with silver hair and a black goatee, which looked so perfect that it was as if a laser had been used to trim it. He wore an impeccable black suit with expensive-looking shoes, and when he spoke it was with a Japanese accent.
“What do you want?” he said, staring up at Dhata’s face with the posture of someone confident and dangerous.
“What is this place?” Dhata said, as his fingers played on the handle of the tube.
“You can’t read, big man? This is Eau Noire, as in Eau Noire, a place for people with money. You got money, big man, or you here to waste Roy’s time?”
“I’m guessing you’re Roy,” Dhata said, but the man merely held his gaze. “I have money. Let me in; I want to see what Eau has to offer.”
The man smiled. “You really have no clue, do you?” he said. “It’s invite only, and you’re not on the list, so why don’t you go down a couple of blocks and spend that money at a café?”
Patience wearing thin, Dhata reminded himself that he was in front of a large building without the slightest clue of what was inside of it. He slipped the tube back into his pocket, then wiped his face unconsciously.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m going to be square with you because I’m out of time and tired. You look like you’re more than a bouncer, so maybe you can be square with me too. I am here looking for someone who has gone missing. Any chance you all are kidnapping women and holding them for ransom?”
Roy looked to his right, then slowly to his left, and then he motioned Dhata closer.
“Fuck off,” he whispered into his ear, and that was too much for the skiptracer to take. Pulling the tube out, he jammed it into his solo plexus and pulled the trigger while pushing him inside. He didn’t wait for him to fall, since he knew that there would be others, and jumped on another dapper bouncer that was inside of the narrow hallway.
He got up once he was sure that the man was unconscious and looked around to see exactly where he was. The walls were lined with velvet, rich and red, with tiny lights near the top to illuminate the area. The floor looked like black obsidian, shiny and smooth, and polished to be as immaculate as the bouncers. There was a desk in the center with no one behind it, and a single door at the end that led into the actual business.
“You two look the part and talk a good game, but you need to get on your training,” he said to the unconscious men. “Learn to recognize a dangerous man when you see one, and you won’t end up stunned and beat down.”
He reached down and wiped his hands on the lapel of the second bouncer, then checked the charges on the tube and slid it back into his pocket. Ten long strides took him to the door built into the velvet wall, and he grabbed the handle and turned the knob while his right hand twitched over the handle of the tube, ready to pull it if necessary.
Inside was a massive room of red and green lights. It was a lot to take in but he couldn’t help but look on in awe. The walls were glass, with what appeared to be a looping video of dark water trickling down. It made for a trippy effect, as if he was in inside of a drinking glass that was overflowing with liquid. The place was a lounge with red carpeting, and with numerous people mingling with one another.
This is one of those escape hubs that I’ve heard about, Dhata thought. A club for the mega rich, where they can do whatever they want. He slipped inside and closed the door, hoping not to get noticed. The bouncers would be up any minute now, so he had to disappear before they came looking for him.
He looked for a panel to short out the door, and seal the locking mechanism to buy him time. There was no panel, and he realized that he was unable to access anything within his implant. There seemed to be a damper in the building nullifying all of his enhancements. His ICLs did not allow him the advantages that he had normally, and even his cybernetic leg felt strange.
Looking around, he scanned the room to see if any synths were in attendance. There weren’t any and judging by the damper, it wouldn’t have been possible anyway. So, he thought, a rich man’s getaway that is also synth free.
He made his way across the room, glancing up at the artificial sun beaming down from the tall ceiling. Doing this, he came close to falling into a pool. He had somehow missed it when he entered, and would have taken a plunge if not for someone yelling a warning.
Why would Lur come here? Dhata thought. This has nothing to do with her father or our case. I mean, it does explain her lack of contact since no phone can be accessed in here. The implications were not good, and he started to think about her character. Did Lur have it in her to leave him high and dry?
No, there is something else beneath the surface, he thought. But with no ICLs to see beyond the veil, he was forced to take everything at face value. He considered the technology. The videos were augmented, especially the sun, which was radiating heat. Tech was in place but there was a damper; he wasn’t used to mods as advanced as this.
The women were as perfect as synth Marys, and the men came in bigger varieties. Some were as beautiful as their female counterparts, and others were older and not so attractive. Dhata took the latter to be customers who had amassed the money to book a stay at paradise. He was running out of time. The bouncers would soon be up, so as he made his way to the far end of the room, looking for an elevator or stairs.
The door would be hidden to keep the façade alive, so he hugged the walls and felt for grooves. His near miss with the pool had brought him some attention, and he volleyed back their smiles when they looked at him. He tried to walk as if he was familiar with the place, and went as far as accepting a cocktail from a passing waiter.
It took five whole minutes before he found what he was looking for—it was tucked behind the tiki bar. There were five people working the bar, and countless more drinking, so he didn’t know how it was that he would get behind them. Out of options and desperate, he walked up to the bar and motioned one of the bartenders over.
“Hey,” he said, “we’re running maintenance and I need to get upstairs. I’m new so I really don’t know the protocol for going up there.”
“Oh,” she said. “Tell you what, just come around, and—what company are you with?”
Without thinking about it, Dhata said, “Name’s Steve, and I’m with Akiyama Koch Robotics. I was sent by Michael to look in on things. He told me to be discrete, but I’ve been looking around for a while and I just couldn’t figure it out.”
“Oh sure, no problem,” she said, panic reflecting on her face. He had broken into her groove, and the needy patrons were growing restless.
She lifted the counter and he slipped past, then opened the door and stepped through. When he closed it behind him it was like waking from a dream. The corridor he was in was dark, with wires running along the walls. He quickly made his way towards a light where he found some stairs leading up. He stopped and collected himself for whatever was waiting upstairs.
At the top of the stairs was a plain white door, and Dhata walked up to it and listened. All he heard was a deep silence, and his heart rate increased when he thought of Lur.
One thing that really bothered him that he couldn’t shake was that the place was dampened yet they were able to track her location. It had to be deliberate, like the sun and dripping walls. It was tech that they allowed to work, which meant that he was walking into a trap.
So she’s either dead or held in here, he thought, but they want me to look for her.
He pulled out the revolver and exhaled slowly to prepare himself for the horrible finale to his search.
‡Chapter 19‡
Deus Ex Machina
Grabbing the handle, Dhata pushed the door open and brought the pistol up in front of him. It was a large room, occupied by people, all dressed well and seated at tables having discussions. They looked as if they were at a restaurant waiting for the waiter. At one of the tables sat Lur Diaz, and she looked as if she had been crying. Then the attendants began to applaud when Lur ran over and hugged him tightly.
“See my dear, I told you not to worry,” one of the men said. “Dhata Mays is a great detective.”
Surprised and taken aback, Dhata looked around. “What is this?” he said. “Were you all … waiting for me? What the hell is all of this?”
Lur looked up, then touched his face with her palms. There were dried tears on her cheeks, and her hands felt hot. “These are the people that were looking for me,” she whispered. “It isn’t the FBI like we thought. This is something else that I don’t understand. They sent me the fake message about Papa.”
“Bait,” he said. “But is Don Jose okay?”
Lur nodded, but twisted her mouth, as if the subject bothered her. “They showed me Papa. They have surveillance on him—they have surveillance on everybody.”
“What do you want?” Dhata said to the room, and stepped past Lur to face them all. There were twelve men and women, older and attractive. All of them seemed to have had major work to preserve their looks from age. Some seemed ageless, the way a synth tended to be, but they were human, and he immediately picked up on this.
“We are The Unsung,” the first man said. “I know, it may come as a shock.”
“Wait, what?” Dhata said. “See now, I’m totally confused.”
“Come on in,” said a woman that was seated next to the first man. “Take a load off, Detective Mays. We know that you’ve had a long journey.”
Lur walked him to her table, where the first man was seated, and Dhata complied, even putting away his tube. “You were expecting a floor full of bad guys with guns, holding your friend hostage to do something sinister?” the man said.
Dhata nodded slowly and took his seat, still confused by the place and the people. “Yeah, this is, um … I couldn’t have guessed at this. How are you all The Unsung? That makes no sense at all.”
“Before we explain ourselves, skiptracer, I want to make sure that you’re okay,” the first man said. He reminded Dhata of Peyton, since he was tall, dark, and immaculate, like an actor from a 1950’s movie. “My name is Robert Ito, and I am the chairman of The Unsung. We are a secret society, and something that most people in this country are not ready to understand. Due to that, we have always operated from the shadows, doing things to help people.”
“So you all are a form of superhero organization? Is that what I’m hearing?” Dhata said. “A Justice League for the rich and powerful?”
“No, that’s what you perceived when you came into a building such as this, and walked past the gross behavior of the humans on the first floor. But while we share a building with the rich and privileged, what we represent is something bigger,” Robert said.
Dhata said, “I’ve always understood The Unsung to be a synth organization, made up of veterans that organized to help out their fellow synths. Every synth that I talked to has told me this, and I cannot imagine them mistaking twelve human elites.”
Lur rested a warm hand on his forearm, and their eyes met briefly as she squeezed him gently. Dhata wondered what she had been through and if The Unsung had hurt her, but her expression told him otherwise.
Robert gestured to a corner and a door opened up to reveal a synth woman toting a tray with several drinks. She marched over to Dhata’s table, placed the tray down, and grabbed a glass. As Dhata and Lur looked upon her in awe, she gestured to the tray for them to join her.
“A synth, here?” Dhata said, surprised. “How is it that you’re able to function with that monster damper on this building?”
“The damper only affects people who are on the first floor,” she said. “Up here, we can still access the Global Network, though, I am not connected like you expect me to be.”
“So, no Arch Brain,” Dhata said, and she shook her head no. “Which means,” he said as he turned to look at Lur, “you’ve been receiving my phone calls.”
“Oh, she was, but she couldn’t answer them,” said Robert. “We needed to get you here, and Ms. Diaz understood. Had we invited you formally, you would have ignored us, and if we’d forced you here, you would have left a trail of bodies. Dhata, we chose you because, unlike most human beings, you have a love in your heart for synths. You, more than anyone else, will believe me when I tell you that there are things being done to bring about the elimination of the synths. It is orchestrated by powerful men, through a complicated set of incidents. We’re talking cause and effect on the deepest level that will force humanity to cheer the destruction of their mechanical brothers. Do you understand?”
