Neural Wraith, page 28
“And you hate the dolls for it.”
A snort. Hammond grinned at Nick. “They rolled off an assembly line. I don’t hate the machines. Just the fuckers who made them. Dumbasses who create bartenders who intentionally get orders wrong, or police dolls that think privacy is for Neanderthals.”
“Then why call them tin cans?” Nick asked.
Kate silently deposited the two beers, interrupting them briefly. Nick wondered if she had chosen to remain quiet because she could understand what Hammond was ranting about.
“Because at the end of the day, somebody needs to wear the shit.” Hammond polished off his cocktail, then moved onto his third beer. “Plenty of poor bastards from broken families in Babylon. Maybe Daddy beat their ass, or Mom’s a compulsive gambler. Doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, they’re breaking into houses and the Liberators are breaking their bones.”
Nick processed this. “So even though it’s not the fault that the Archangels were created, they’re still bad?”
“Pretty much. They can’t help it, but they’re literally part of the system that manufactured them. At the same time, not much point doing anything about them, so long as the system stays in place. Life goes on, shitty as it is.”
“Yet you’re the Lieutenant Cipher of the entire Archangel Division.” Nick wondered how the world had produced this result.
“Funny, ain’t it?” Hammond’s laugh suggested it wasn’t very funny. “So, what the hell is this about, anyway? I’m still a detective. What the hell is this, a character test?”
Nick leaned on the table and placed his head in one hand.
At this point, was there anything to lose by coming clean?
“The prime suspect in my investigation is one of the police executives,” he said.
“And you chose me?”
“The NLF fingered somebody who has issues with how the Spires handled the riots. You came to mind for some reason.”
Hammond snorted.
“But then the commissioner just told me a story about why he’s doing his thing, and it’s also driven by the riots,” Nick said. “I’m betting a lot of people in the department have a history that goes back to that mess.”
“Less than you’d think, more than you’d prefer,” Hammond said. “Do you have a suspect list? Or a profile?”
“A competent Cipher, or somebody with deep connections and a comprehensive understanding of mainframes,” Nick explained. “They’ve managed to stay undetected for months, fraudulently use Jun Kim’s account to finance a terrorist organization, and sneak in foreign mercenaries.”
“Well, that rules out all the police Ciphers,” Hammond said with a toothy grin. “Guess I’m off the hook.”
“I think you’re off the hook, anyway. I get the impression the Archangels monitor you too closely for you to pull it off.” Nick stared at the blacked-out windows. “More to the point, I don’t think you know enough about mainframes. The NLF were doing something sophisticated, but had no clue what it was. Somebody told them to do it, and they knew about how Helena worked.”
“I can find out how she works pretty easily,” Hammond said. “Pulling up her files would be trivial and easy to explain.”
“Except even Rie didn’t have access to this. Whoever worked it out is either pretending to be an incompetent Cipher, or works with people who already knew.”
This time, Hammond’s silence was meaningful. The man rubbed his beard, his mind churning behind his eyes.
“You’re fingering the commissioner,” he eventually said.
“He fits the profile, but doesn’t have a motivation. RTM could easily make their own Helena, even if she wasn’t the same. Not to mention why not order the military to steal her?”
“He’s been at odds with the military for months.”
“Before or after the Tartarus raid came up.”
No reply. That told Nick he was onto something.
“What about Andrews?” he asked Hammond. “The biggest advantage Kim and Andrews have is that they use the Spires’ network. The Archangels can’t monitor them, so they could work with a team.”
“Can’t imagine it,” Hammond grunted out. “For one thing, she’s not from the Spires. Even has an Altnet presence. The military transferred her over as captain when the Custodians got rolled out, because the board didn’t trust us with the big toys. All her connections are still there. If she wanted the fancy mainframe, she could get it with just a word to an old friend.”
That was a damn good argument. Kim remained a suspect because he was out of favor with the military. But if Andrews still had influence, it would be pointless to use the police instead of the military. Even if there was something questionable going on.
“Are you sure she’s above board? I can focus more on Kim if so,” Nick said.
“What about me?”
“Let’s put it this way: now that I’ve aired my suspicion, if the Archangels let you walk away without handcuffs, you’re probably not the suspect. I bet they’re rifling through your implant as we speak.”
Hammond’s muscles tensed, but he merely nodded. “I figure they do that shit for fun.” But he didn’t calm down. “The biggest question mark over Carolyn’s head is an incident when she was a new captain. Lieu’s predecessor was causing her serious issues. Everyone overlooked it, because nobody liked the way the military forced her on us.”
Nick grimaced. That sounded like a problem he might run into. Thankfully, Hammond hadn’t tried to haze him.
“Things got nastier and nastier. Our bureau controls the security systems, because we’re also responsible for mainframe maintenance. Got all the Ciphers, you see?” Hammond laughed bitterly. “Well, had them all. Anyway, after a day where her access permissions were revoked, and she missed some important shit, her antagonist turned up dead.”
Trying to keep his surprise in check, Nick hid his mouth behind a gulp of beer.
Andrews had killed a fellow police officer?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Hammond said. “The good captain was found in the underground doll maintenance bays with several bullet wounds. Very, very dead. One of the Liberators had malfunctioned and gunned him down. Lieu investigated, the report was very hush hush, but nothing was done. They scrapped the doll and pretended nothing happened.”
“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” Nick asked.
“No evidence. Lieu once hinted that the captain got himself killed and was trying to prank Carolyn with stun rounds from the Liberator. But whatever the case, an asshole was dead, and people stopped fucking with her.” The old detective’s eyes hardened. “Can’t say I miss the son of a bitch, or any of the other captains that she’ll be firing soon.”
The mood of the conversation darkened. Both men were on their last drinks. Hammond wasn’t touching his, and instead stared into the distance.
“I told you that I hate the system. Well, most of the captains are part of it. When the Liberators rolled out some 30 years ago, we told them that they’d be next. That this was just the start. They laughed in the faces of the officers they were firing and told them to get a job flipping burgers.”
Nick frowned. “I don’t think a human has ever had a job flipping burgers in Babylon.”
“That was the joke.” A sneer marred Hammond’s graying beard. “Here we are, still in the lifetime of those assholes, and they’re the ones pinging me in the Altnet. ‘Hammond, you have to stop them!’ Endless fucking whining about the incoming downsizing, because they know half the department will be excess once the Mark 3s roll out.”
At some point, the music had stopped playing. Nick kept his eyes on Hammond.
“They did nothing when this started. Some even helped it along. Mainframes running the entire department, and dolls on every street corner and investigating every crime. They fired my old man and countless patrol officers without a care and are now crying that it’s their turn.”
“Paul—”
Hammond’s grip tightened on his glass. “So much of that cemetery out there is on them. They forgot. I’ll never forget when I came home that night, and found my old man—”
“I believe you have had enough to drink, Detective Hammond,” Kate interrupted, appearing from nowhere.
Her hands closed over Hammond’s. The detective’s knuckles had whitened and were physically straining against the glass. The entire vessel shook. Kate placed one hand on Hammond’s wrist and another on his fingers.
The man’s entire face was a furious red, and incandescent rage glowed in his eyes.
After a moment, he looked away with a grimace. Kate removed the glass and returned to her post.
Nick remained silent, unsure of what to say.
“Fuck ‘em,” Hammond growled, glaring at the wall. “Fuck all of ‘em. The department is a shell of what it used to be, thanks to them. If you want to know why I stick it out with the tin cans, it’s because somebody has to. Somebody who knows what we’re supposed to fucking do.”
The older detective stood, his coat flapping behind him as he did so. Now he was almost an exact match for the grizzled movie detective he looked like, and just as miserable.
Hammond paused, then placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We’ll come back here again. At night, when you can actually have some drinks, and I can see you try the whiskey sour special.”
“Definitely,” Nick said.
Then Hammond swept out of the bar. As Nick had expected, the Archangels didn’t arrest him. His pair of dolls followed him away.
And Nick was left to his thoughts, and the dark, hateful fury that Hammond had left in the air.
CHAPTER 22
“Nicholas, I believe we should return to the department,” Meta said, entering the bar.
Kate didn’t respond to the intrusion of the Archangel. Nick remained seated, his last empty glass in front of him. Fifteen minutes had passed since Hammond had left.
His mind ran over his conversation with the other detective. There was little doubt in his mind that the grizzled detective had little to do with the investigation.
On the other hand, he’d left Nick with a lot to think about. The deep loathing that Hammond felt toward his own colleagues in response to the actions of the department wasn’t something that could be solved. But it felt like a smaller piece in a larger puzzle.
Nick wondered what that puzzle might look like once completed.
He also wondered if he wanted to see it completed.
Despite that, the puzzle seemed to be forming itself in the back of his mind. His subconsciousness whittled away at the problem like it did a particularly nasty programming problem. Eventually, he’d realize what he was missing and it would all come together.
“Nicholas?”
He shook his head, then rose to his feet. “I thought I was working from home today.”
“You are not currently at home,” Meta said, a hint of spice in her voice. “I believe that the department is also superior for your protection, even if you are presently inebriated.”
“I only had a few beers.”
“That is the definition of inebriated.”
The Mark 1s had always seemed a little smug whenever they had interrogated Nick in the past. He could feel that smugness leaking through Meta right now.
Unlike the Mark 3s, who appeared to still be developing personalities, Nick suspected the Mark 1s were different. They seemed to be quite well-defined in how they acted. Instead, they struggled to express themselves as easily due to their greater integration with the Host and reliance on neural networking.
Was Meta going to turn out to be a big bully?
For now, Nick raised his hands in surrender. As he left the bar, Kate slipped over and cleared away his glass.
“I will see you again, detective,” she said.
“Call me Nick,” he said.
She tilted her head, then looked at Meta. The Archangel looked back.
“Until next time, Detective Waite,” Kate said, then returned to her post.
He looked at Meta, who stared back at him placidly.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I believe you have a question that you are not asking.”
“Then why don’t you answer it?” Nick folded his arms.
“That would be inefficient.”
And dodging the point wasn’t? He let out a breathy laugh, exasperated.
Yes, Meta was definitely opening up.
They left the bar. Juliet and Rosa fell into step as they did so. The hallways of the building were as hauntingly empty as when they arrived.
Outside, the sun continued to beam down. A handful of people shopped at some of the ground level floors, and some teenagers played hooky near the fountain. Actual crowds formed farther away, near the shopping mall and office towers.
A few more Mark 1s waited for Nick in the foyer of the building. There would likely be a few more near the SUVs.
Nick shielded his eyes from the sun. “What’s Rie up to right now? I know she mentioned paperwork, but I’m hoping that she’s finished it by now.”
“Her status is presently unknown. She has yet to update the Host on her activities,” Meta said. “I can—”
She suddenly seized up. The other Archangels reacted the same way, their bodies abruptly stiffening as if an electric pulse had run through their bodies.
But the reaction wasn’t limited to just them. Every person that Nick saw reacted in some way.
The teens suddenly started gesturing and shouting, deeply confused. Shoppers froze, some unsure what was happening, while others were frustrated. A few banged the side of their head.
Nick recognized the motions and reactions from the humans, and even the dolls.
This was a neural network shutdown.
“Meta—” he tried to say.
“Initiating escape and escort plan,” Meta said. “Complete neural network shutdown will limit our effectiveness and options. Nicholas, we must get you to an interceptor.”
The SUVs were right there, but he saw the Mark 1s beside them sprint toward him. Their speed was blisteringly fast. They cleared the couple hundred yards between the vehicle and them within seconds. People shouted in surprise.
“EM interference signals detected. ECCW capabilities are greatly hampered, We have poor coverage of nearby buildings,” one of the new Mark 1s detected. “Metatron, immediately retreat.”
Meta nodded. Juliet and Rosa raised their rifles, looking into the distance.
Nick was about to join them and grab his handgun, but never had the chance. The Mark 3s grabbed him by the arms and rushed him toward a different road. Only Meta followed, while the other Mark 1s spread out and began issuing orders to the civilians.
Then a familiar boom split the air, and Nick tasted the ground the next second. More gunfire crackled. Screams followed swiftly.
The arms that had pushed Nick to the ground left him immediately. He rose to his knees and looked around.
Juliet and Rosa crouched beside him, shielding him with their bodies while they fired into the distance. Meta stood nearby, taking occasional glances at her surroundings between shots.
Their targets consisted of several men in civilian clothes carrying a variety of weapons. But underneath those clothes were the true threat: a bewildering array of cybernetics. These men were more chrome than flesh. They bled oil.
Instantly, Nick knew these attackers were the foreign mercenaries that Travis had spoken of.
But what Nick didn’t understand was why they had so brazenly attacked in broad daylight, in the middle of Babylon, while Nick had nearly a dozen Archangels defending him.
SMG rounds pummeled the mercs, and Nick saw one go down. His face was a bloody mess of gore where the Archangels had replaced it with lead. Even if the mercs’ bodies were coated in bulletproof cybernetics, they still had weak points. The Archangels targeted them judiciously.
However, the return fire was even more damaging. A Mark 1 lay in ruins, her headless body sprawled across the tile floor of the plaza. Two more had sustained serious damage and were firing one-handed with gaping holes in their chassis.
Nick did a mental count. There were only five or six assailants, and one was already down. More would swiftly follow.
By contrast, there had been seven Mark 1s, and two Mark 3s. The sniper took out a Mark 1 immediately, and two more had sustained damage, but that still gave the Archangels the numerical advantage. But they were outgunned, despite their robotic accuracy.
The difference in weaponry was showing itself, at least in the short-term. But every cyborg that went down was a huge blow to the attackers.
Nick tried to reach for his handgun, but fumbled the handle. Juliet spotted his movement and grabbed his arm. Her head swiveled like a turret, searching for something he couldn’t see.
“There are only a few of them, we can—” he tried to say, ignoring how ridiculous he sounded.
A van burst into the plaza, emerging from beyond the wings of the emergency services building. It surged across the tiles. What few bystanders remained ran off, screaming, before they were run over. Self-driving cars didn’t go rogue like this every day.
“Illegally modified vehicle,” Juliet intoned. She pointed her rifle at the windscreen of the van, then immediately lowered it. “Get clear!”
Nick didn’t wait for her to grab him again, and sprinted to the side of the building. The Mark 1s scattered, but this left behind the damaged pair. The van roared toward them, and none of the dolls wasted bullets on it. Presumably, they had sensed it was armored.
Gunfire blew chunks off the masonry near him, and Rosa pulled him into cover. Juliet and Meta returned fire while darting toward him. A scream indicated they’d scored hits.
But Nick’s attention focused on the van. The damaged Mark 1s ignored the machine barreling toward them, instead firing at the cyborgs who were pursuing Nick.
Then the van was on top of them.
The Mark 1s dropped their SMGs and casually reached out to stop the errant vehicle. The entire front of the vehicle compressed inward like a tin can. Its rear wheels briefly lifted off the ground as inertia took hold, before kicking up a cloud of white dust when the van slammed back into the ground.
