High heels ricochet sharp clacks down the marble-lined corridor. Small explosions in a stone box. Passes the desk sergeant with a negligent wave. The man grunts and returns to his paperwork. Turns hard right at the first branching. Creamy coat swings into the legs of a morning-faced cop in uniform.
"Hey!" he shouts, fumbling with a mug of coffee.
Freeborn flips him off and strides on. Under the sign reading "Information Services".
"Kageda: anything and everything on Zell Mariananski."
Kageda looks up from his computer terminal, scowls. "Fill out the form, Freeborn. Jesus, you think the rules don't apply to you?"
"Yep." Snaps her gum. "Besides, you love me and you know it."
"I do not love you. A black widow spider couldn't love you."
"All right, I'll settle for unrequited lust. On your part."
Kageda rolls his eyes and gets up to fill out the paperwork himself. "Heaven help me. At least tell me the case number...."
Freeborn rattles it off. "Soonest, Kageda."
"Yeah, yeah.... I look forward to the day you're not in a rush, 'cause that'll be the day one of us is dead."
"And that's more likely than retirement around here. Thanks." Slaps counter, swings on her heel and marches out.
Back along the corridor. Swish of cashmere counters the tap of steel-toed shoes. Glances turn her way from the corners of eyes as she passes.
Through the open squad room. Sharp footsteps rattle off the metal desks at a rock and roll pace.
A sprawl of mail and faxes across the desk top. Freeborn scoops them to one side, shrugs off her coat, throws herself into the chair as she flings the coat onto a hook protruding from the wall.
Glitter of light on steel. Straight razor slices through the first of the envelope flaps. Grips it at the joint, carmine-tipped fingers arched like elegant talons. Works through her mail like Sweeney Todd on a friday afternoon.
Reads. Makes notes. Phone calls. Begins to laugh, low and cold. Folds two of the faxes, rises. Puts her coat on and shoves the faxes into her pockets.
Meets Kageda in the doorway. He shoves a sheaf of paper at her. "Here. Mariananski. You're welcome."
"Thanks." Flips though the sheets. Grins. "Very nice. Tell the captain I'm out for a while."
"Hey...," he objects as she strides out. Sighs and shakes his head.
....
Slips through the door. Leans against the wall and waits until the desk is clear of all but one man. Approaches him silently.
"What do you want?" the desk sergeant asks. Doesn't look up.
"Detective Freeborn."
"Out."
"Information."
"Met Maria, have you?"
Quirks an eyebrow. "Maria?"
"Detective Freeborn. She's a piranha in a cashmere coat. Probably came up to your shoulder."
"Chews gum? Mouth like a machine gun?"
"That's Maria. She's a twist, Jack. No one'll touch her, but she's a fucking terrier on a case and doesn't care what it takes to get to the bottom of it." Never looks up from his paperwork. "How'd you get tangled up with her? She cross your path like a black cat?"
"Two black cats."
The cop snorts. "Bitch-kitty and the attack-dog. Now there's a combination. What do you want to know?"
"Good cop?"
"Too good. Anybody else and she'd have been out of here in a box long ago. The dirty rumor is that she has connections to the Commissioner through his mistress. Sister, daughter, nobody knows, but she's got a couple of guardian angels somewhere, one for each side of the line."
"Who's on my side?"
"Don't know. Educated guess: someone close to your boss. Anybody but you, I'd say watch your back."
"Good, but... bent?"
"Only in her personal inclinations. Some people can be a little too honest, if you get me. And a sharp mouth on her, too. You interested in her or one of her cases?"
"Nolan."
"Apparent homicide, Dr. Elise Nolan...." Looks up. "What's the interest?"
"Personal. What chance Freeborn would take a suggestion?"
"It would depend on the suggestion. You want her to do the dirty work for you?"
"The clean work. I just plan to follow the trail."
"I'll bet...." Slender man in a suit enters from the back and walks toward the desk. The sergeant sighs. "Leave your phone number, Koenig. I'll have her call you."
Jack flips a card out of his pocket onto the desk. Wheels and goes out.
Slender stops beside the desk sergeant. Frowns. "Was that.... John Koenig?"
Looks at the card. "Yep."
"Jesus. You didn't arrest him?"
"For what? Asking questions ain't illegal. We'd all be out of a job if it was, Adair."
"Fuck me, questioning, homicide, that damned fire last night... somebody's got to want him for something."
The sergeant pins a bored look on. "It's amazing how few people want anything to do with a guy like that, unless they're just plain crazy. I don't have any flags up for him. You want to put one on?"
"No. What did he want?"
"Wants to talk to Freeborn about the Nolan case. She still out?"
"I haven't seen her around, so I suppose so."
Grunts and nods. "Thanks. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Last night's desk log for approximately 10 PM."
The sergeant grumbles under his breath and produces the log book. Adair makes note of an entry, closes the book, returns it. Leaves.
The sergeant turns to his desk terminal and begins to type....
....
Shadows hide beneath feet, small, dark pools through which pedestrians scuff, oblivious. Two threads of aggressive rhythm twist across the regular beat of footsteps on concrete, converging. Gazes lock together.
Freeborn stops in an eddy of foot traffic. Grins. Waits for him to draw nearer.
"What's the news, Jack?"
"A back-alley surgeon named Egraine treated someone for serious wounds yesterday in a women's clinic off Bank. Doctor, patient and this guy then disappeared." Shows the picture from his pocket. "Find Egraine, find Elise."
Looks at the picture. "Oh, yeah... that guy. Haven't identified him yet, but he must work in the lab. I expect to have a name for him later today. I could guess, but that might put the wrong guy in your sights. You looking for, him, Jack?"
Nod.
"I'll look into your lead on the doctor. Thanks, Jack. I'll be in touch." Touches the picture and launches back into the stream of pedestrians.
Glances after her. Returns the picture to his pocket. Strides away.
....
Freeborn shoves through the doors into the police department foyer. The desk sergeant holds up a card for her. Snatches it, glances.
"He was looking for you about ten minutes ago."
"Saw him outside."
Nods.
She starts to walk past.
"Take a look at this, too."
Spins back around. The sergeant twists his terminal display toward her. Taps an entry. She reads and stares. Frowns. Teeth grind into her chewing gum.
"Surveillance? What for?"
The sergeant shrugs. "Ask Adair."
Low snarl. Twitch of the lip. "Thanks." Turns and stalks into the warren of corridors and offices beyond.
First to Adair's desk. No dice. Begins the rounds off the offices.
"Hey, Adair!"
The slender detective halts in the corridor and turns slowly.
"What do you want, Freeborn?"
Closes the distance. "You have a 24/7 watch on John Koenig. What for?"
"It's none of your damned business, Freeborn. It's my case."
"There's no case number attached to the surveillance order. Looks like you're doing this on your own chit. You have some personal issue with Koenig? That sort of thing's a no-no, Adair."
"I said it's none of your business why I'm having Koenig watched. Now, why don't you shove off?"
"Not likely. He crosses my investigation. Any motivation attached to your case could have bearing on mine. But if you have no actual case working, then I have to wonder why you're expending resources on observing him. You have something to watch for, Adair?"
"Fuck you," he spits, pushing her away.
Snatches his wrist and twists it up behind his back. "Fuck me?" she hisses. "I don't think so. In fact, if anyone's going to get fucked, here, it's you, Adair. Why do I have the impression you and I aren't playing on the same team, hmm? Is there some reason for you to be nervous about Koenig being on the loose? Personal issues? Hmm...? Maybe? Playing the tightrope-game, Adair?" Wolf's grin.
"Bitch."
"Every stellar inch. Gotta watch your step on that tightrope, Adair. Gotta tread light and quick and hope and pray." Lets go of his arm with a flick. "I hope you don't have anything to be afraid of, here, Adair. The things we fear have a way of finding us."
Whirls and leaves him shaking in the corner of the hallway.
....
The security guard gives him a doubtful look. "I'm not sure if I should tell you anything. I mean, the cops are on it, I'm sure. They've been all over the place, asking all sorts of questions...."
"If it were your wife or girlfriend went missing, what would you do? Sit and wait for the cops?"
Shakes his head and looks down. "No, guess not. Let me see that picture again."
Jack hands him the picture.
Frowns at it. Nods slowly. "That... that's Dr. Henderson."
"Did he come to work today?"
"No. He's on the vacation list."
"His vacation started today?"
"Yep."
Sets his jaw. "You have an address?"
Nods. Writes something on a card. Hands it over. "Don't say you got it from me. Please."
Takes the card. "No problem." Walks out holding the card in his hand.
Wind skips across the doorway as he exits, snaps the collar of his jacket over and presses the fabric against his side, rippling it over hard shapes beneath.
Turns his back to the wind and lights a cigarette. Studies the address on the card. Not close. Slips the card into his pocket. Walks out to the street, thinking, smoking....
....
Orange sunlight dives at his eyes, slashing off the hard reflections of dark shades. Warehouses, docks, the reek of fish and rotting cordage. Spilled fuel and oil leave acid-dream rainbows on puddles.
Henderson's neighbor redirected him here with an address found on a dropped slip of paper.
Tries the freight shipper's door. Locked. Walks around the building. All locked up. No windows, just corrugated steel siding from ground to roofline. White lines scraped in the asphalt by the loading door. Fresh. Cheap, new lock latched through the door hasp.
Studies it. Growl of disgust. Draws a gun from under his jacket. Muzzle against the edge of the hasp. Fires. Pulls the wrecked hasp free of the building's side. Shoves the heavy door open with his leg and shoulder. Enters the warehouse cautiously.
A stench hangs in the air like dust, dancing slowly in light creeping past Jack's shadow.
Reholsters the pistol. Treads slowly across the empty floor.
Rags and bones, blood and viscera. No more than that, anymore. Jack crouches beside the ragged corpse, avoiding the still pool of blood. Reaches out to turn the face into view, carefully. Resists his touch. Cold and rigid. Ducks his head close. Holds his breath and studies the face, the wounds. Flesh ripped like cheap fabric. Throat and chest slashed with overlapping triple gashes.
Stands and moves with care around the body. Stares at it from every angle. Nods grimly. Turns and leaves it. Closes the door. Wipes down the hasp and door. Strides away.
Half a mile away, pulls his cell phone from his pocket.
"Police department."
"Maria Freeborn."
Clicks and hisses.
"Freeborn."
"Monitored?"
"Yes. They always are. This the guy I met on the sidewalk?"
"Yeah. Call me back from a clean phone."
Ends the call. Lights a cigarette. Phone rings five minutes later.
"Ok. What's up, Jack?"
"I found Dr. Henderson."
"That's the guy in the video. Got the name an hour ago. Been looking for him. Where is he?"
"Freight warehouse on the docks." Gives the address. "Cut up. Been dead a little while."
"Wonderful...."
"I recognize the work. Best guess is this was the other guy in the video."
"Who is it?"
Drags on his cigarette and blows the smoke out slowly. "Can't tell you, yet. Need time to ask some questions."
"Jack, I warned you not to get in my way...."
"I'm staying well out of your way, Freeborn. Stay out of mine."
"Jack...."
Shuts down the call. Turns the phone off and tucks it back into his pocket.
It's a long walk back to the parts of the city Jack wants....
....
"Have you seen Jack Koenig today?"
Andrus glances up from his dinner. "'Scuse me?"
Thirty-ish, sharp as broken glass, the man stands quietly over Andrus' chair. "Jack Koenig," he repeats. "Have you seen or heard from him today?"
Swallows hard. "No. No, I haven't."
"If you see him, tell him Henry is looking for him. He's not answering his phone and Henry is anxious to talk to him. He's not happy with Jack at the moment. Make sure he hears."
Andrus nods, dry-mouthed. Watches the man turn and stroll out of the diner. Gulps water and chokes on haste and fear.
....
"Oh, Jesus...," the man on the floor whimpers. He scoots back against the wall, trying to brace himself to rise. One arm dangles oddly, blood staining the shoulder and forearm. "I don't know all of it. I only know what he was into my boss for. Christ, Koenig...."
Jack kicks the man's feet out from under him. Lands in a heap. Pain shoots from the broken forearm and grinds into the dislocated shoulder. Screams.
"Who else was he into?"
"I don't know. I don't!" he shrieks, shying from the threatened kick. "Please! Please.... He's spread around, but it's mostly on this side. Not all of it's his stuff, though. He asked for a few favors for... for someone else."
Jack places one foot over the slowly swelling hand. "For whom?"
Pants, eyes narrowed in fearful agony. "His boss, I think."
"You don't get paid to think, Len. You're not very good at it. Who?" The foot bears down.
Len howls. "Mariananski!" Pressure eases off. Len slumps, sobbing. "His name is Mariananski. Some kind of big wheel at that research lab Henderson works at. Oh, God.... He's dirty as Hell, but he put it all through Henderson. Some here, some on the other side. Christ... Jesus Christ," he moans, cradling his broken limb against his body.
"That'll do for now, Len. If you're having me, you know I'll be back."
Len nods miserably. "You--you know Lucas will hear about this. He's not going to be happy."
"Lucas and I are about due for another round, anyway. I'll be looking for him." Checks his jacket, frowning at a dark spot on the dark sleeve. Smoothes the sleeve and turns to go. Turns back. "You know where Rip's been, lately?"
"No." Quick.
"Haven't heard who he's working for these days? What sort of amusements he's been up to?"
"No. I stay far away from that psycho." Panting, shivering. "He hasn't been in here. I swear. Can't trust someone like him. Works both sides. And likes his work a bit too much."
Slow, cold smile. "It's good to like your work. Sometimes, I like mine." Turns away.
Gulps, nods. Watches Jack leave, eyes squeezed to slits of agony and revulsion.
....
Echoes careen around inside the garage. More than there should be. Cold sound.
An expensive sedan chirps response to his remote. Starts its own engine. Unlocks its doors. Mariananski smiles. Opens the driver's door and slips into the seat. Glove leather molds around him. Smiles again.
Passenger door snatches open. Someone slides into the passenger seat. A gun and an ice-cold smile cut off his angry shout.
"What--? Who the Hell are you?"
Shakes his head. "I ask questions. You answer them."
Starts to object. Tick-tock of the gun muzzle across his vision stops him. "How many of your errands did Dr. Henderson run?"
"What?! I don't know--."
"No questions. No objections. Just answers. I'm getting tired of beating the crap out of people, today. My temper is short."
Jack brushes at the dark stains on his jacket sleeve. Mariananski's eyes follow his hand. Pales.
"You... you're Dr. Nolan's boyfriend...?"
Sighs. "Questions...."
"I'm sorry about Dr. Nolan, but I don't know what I can tell you."
"Answer my question. How many of your errands did Henderson run?"
Thinks. "A few."
"Who managed the rest?"
"What? I-- oh... Henderson is my primary connection to... that sort of thing. He... has some ugly habits. I'm afraid I took advantage of that."
"Did you ask him to get rid of Elise for you?"
"What?! No! You think Henderson has something to do with that?"
"He was on the lab recorder video. What I want to know is what do you know about it?"
"Nothing! Henderson hated Dr. Nolan. If he did anything to harm her, I'm sure it was entirely his own idea."
"Why didn't he like Elise?"
"She was a superior scientist and she rebuffed his sexual advances. I suppose his ego couldn't take it."
"Someone like Henderson couldn't have afforded the kind of help he enlisted to snatch Elise. Where do you suppose the money or the favors came from?"
"How would I know? Maybe Henderson is a successful crook."
"He wasn't. He was in debt to some unpleasant people. People I think you know. At least, they know you."
"Henderson! It's Henderson you want."
"I've seen Henderson."
Gasps. Face goes white. Eyes bulge. "He--he said something? About me? He told you I had something to do with it?"
Studies Mariananski's face. "He didn't say anything. Someone cut his throat."
Mariananski slumps in his seat, letting out his breath in a gust. "He's dead?"
Cold stare.
"Is he?"
Lip lifts in half a smile. Jack slips out of the car. Melts into the dark.
....
The freight warehouse stinks, even in the cool, evening breeze.
Sips coffee and leans against the outside door. Glares at the last of the crime-scene technicians, heading back to the van. He detaches and offers her something in a glassine envelope.
"What the hell is it?" she snaps.
"It looks like a .45-caliber slug, recently fired."
"The victim was shot as well as sliced like a cold roast?"
Rolls his eyes. "Probably matches the hole in the wall where your informant blew off the lock. Found it up against the wall."
Takes it. "I'll deal with it."
"Try not to lose it."
"I'll do my best."
Cell phone rings. Both check pockets.
"Freeborn."
"Detective.... It's John Andrus."
Waves the technician away and strolls toward her car.
"The other Jack. What can I do for ya?"
"I-- have you seen Jack? Jack Koenig, that is."
"This morning, yeah."
"Ahh... shit."
"I'm not your buddy's keeper, Andrus. What do you want? Spill or get off my phone."
"Henry Santelle is looking for Jack and Jack is looking for Santelle. He--I mean Jack, just called me. He's furious. Well, as furious as Jack ever shows. Jesus, I'm in such deep shit."
"Why would you be in shit, Andrus? Done something?"
"I.... Yeah. I did something. Oh, my God.... Jack's going to shoot me when he finds out. No... I'll be lucky if he shoots me. Then it'll be over with. Oh, Jesus...."
Sighs. "This ain't the confessional, Andrus. I don't have all day to listen to you bemoan your sins. Spill your guts and get it over with or I'm hanging up. You have ten seconds... nine... eight...."
"I think Henry Santelle had Elise snatched because I asked him to."
"What?" Laughs. "You did what?"
"Freeborn, if Jack finds out, he'll kill me. I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to get her away from Jack. Now... she could be dead. If I've killed her...."
"You're right that Jack will kill you if he finds out." Shakes head. "Jesus Christ, Andrus. You're an idiot. That's the big secret, is it? You're in love with Dr. Nolan, so you tried to separate her from Jack Koenig."
"I--.... It seemed like the last option I had. I didn't know what the situation was with Jack and Santelle. Santelle will tell him and Jack will come after me. Can you help me?"
"If Jack Koenig wants you dead, I don't think there's much in the world that I could do to stop him."
"Ahh... Fuck!"
"Just sit tight a while. I'll look into it. Jack won't come for you until he talks to Santelle and Santelle may say nothing. You could be overreacting."
"I'm dead...."
Next installment.
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