Fic: Guide You in the Dark 3/3
Guide You in the Dark
Lew didn’t care who he scared or woke up as he slammed open the doors to the precinct. A hot lead didn’t care about proper entrances.
“Are you drunk?” Runner asked.
“Only a little bit,” Lew admitted. He headed straight for the white board and tacked up the magazine.
“Dr. Sidney Phillips,” he proclaimed.
“Can I buy a vowel?” Toye asked.
Everyone laughed at that, even Stone.
“What’s your point, Juergens?” he asked.
“Dr. Phillips makes his living writing about the psychology of our freak minds and positing theories about how we survive and cope in the world,” Lew said.
“Yeah, we know,” Morgan said, “what’s your point.”
“Doc Grant, when not running Banika’s drug ring, works as an actual doctor in that part of the city,” Lew said.
“So? They’re two doctors, we knew that,” Loudmouth said.
“Doc Grant and Phillips pretty much do the same exact thing only on different levels and with different motivations. Phillips is trying his best to make the rest of the population understand us, while Grant is trying to help the kids in Banika understand themselves. The only thing that separates the two of them is their level of notoriety and their clientele,” Stone said.
“And their sides of the law,” Vera said.
“The money the Banika Syndicate makes in its arms deals and drug running goes to treat anyone who seeks asylum with Doc Grant. It’s why we let them handle their own territory, by decree of Chief of Police Riggi,” De L’Eau said.
“So, what, Phillips has gone all dark side now?” Runner asked. “I can’t see him wanting to pin murders on his old buddy Sledge.”
“Sledge said he’s been keeping up with Sid through e-mails and phone calls. He seemed damn sure it was the real Sidney Phillips,” De L’Eau said.
“Maybe it was,” Lew said, “or maybe it was a Mimic. We’ve already got a Manipulator out there, it wouldn’t be a stretch for a Mimic. Phillips is a public figure, so a Mimic would have ample resources for learning him.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Toye said, “just answer me this: Why Sledge?”
“Because the general public wouldn’t have trouble believing that a hermit-like Sibyl with his level of powers could go crazy and murder people. They could say Phillips planted the idea in Sledge’s brain, so you bring down Phillips, Sledge, and our community all in one blow.” Lew shrugged. “At least that’s one of my working theories.”
“Or the sleep deprivation,” Runner said.
“I’m almost impressed,” Stone said, “it would explain why someone would take Karamanlis. She knows all of Grant’s clients and where to find them.”
“What are we dealing with here?” Gibson asked. “Is it like, a mob hit or some kids writing Helter Skelter on a wall.”
“If you ask our Chief of Police, she’s leaning more towards Tuskegee,” Stone said. “Mimics can recognize other Mimics. We need to talk to one.”
“Hillbilly,” Lew said.
“Wait until it’s a decent hour. I don’t want Haldane calling down here to rip me a new asshole before I’ve had my coffee,” Stone said.
“So what do we do in the meantime?” Blithe asked.
“Get some fucking sleep and do enough work to see if Juergen’s theory is plausible,” Stone ordered. He pointed at De L’Eau and Vera. “Hack into Sledge’s e-mail account, then go into Phillips’. See if it’s really him or just an imitator. Gibson, get me that report on the interview with Leckie.”
“I can’t, Lieutenant,” Gibson said.
“And why not?” Stone asked.
Gibson held out his phone. “I don’t know what happened to it, all my notes about the case are wiped off. It’s still working, must just be a memory glitch.”
Stone pinched his brow. “Of course it did. Fine, just give me a report on what you remember. Juergens, for Christ’s sake, get some sleep. Toye, Blithe, and Morgan, go down to the archives. See if we’ve come across any of this bullshit and the past.”
“What about me?” Runner asked.
“You can go get the coffee,” Stone said, “and I expect you back here in less than ten minutes.”
“What happened to never taking advantage of my powers for tasks not related to case-work?” Runner asked, quoting the rule book word-for-word.
Stone shrugged. “Get me my coffee or not, I’m still the one who signs off on your timecard.”
Runner was gone before Lew even had the chance to put in his order.
********
Lew could count on one hand the number of times he’d had a one-on-one conversation with Edward “Hillbilly” Jones. It wasn’t often he was in town long enough for a chat, and he wasn’t a coffee date kind of guy.
“So, Hillbilly is a Mimic,” Runner said. He rolled his eyes and asked, “Why is it always Classical Mythology?”
“Because government researchers aren’t too far out of the academic ivory towers,” Lew said. He parked in front of the community center just as the sun started to rise. “Hillbilly’s not just any Mimic. He’s travelled the world, learned from, and trained some of the best. He’s even worked with governments.”
“Hard to believe for a man who seems to make a living at playing instruments,” Runner said.
Lew shrugged. “Who Hillbilly is as a professional, and who he is off-the-clock, are two very different people.”
Haldane met them at the door of the community center.
“Sledge called, said you were coming,” he said, “it’s a good thing. Eddie was about to ship out again.”
“Any particular reason for that?” Runner asked.
Haldane smirked. “You think we haven’t noticed the bodies piling up? Hillbilly just goes for a more discreet method.” He patted both of them on the shoulders. “I am sorry for your loss. Hamm was a good kid.”
“His parents are asking for donations to the support societies, if you want to do something,” Lew said.
Haldane nodded. “I will.” He waved to the staircase. “You two know the way up. I’ve got a class to teach.”
“Take Runner with you,” Lew said.
“What the fuck?” Runner asked.
“I need to ask Hillbilly some things you don’t have the clearance to know,” Lew said. “Stone would have my balls, Will, I’m sorry. Trust me, you’ll enjoy art class with Mr. Haldane.”
Haldane laughed. “I excel at finger painting.”
“Whatever,” Runner muttered.
Lew watched them until he knew they were both safe behind the classroom door. He ran up the steps to Haldane’s office. Hillbilly was already there, fingers plucking away at an acoustic guitar.
“Do you know who is behind this?” he asked.
Hillbilly shook his head. “One thing I’ve always admired about you, Lew. You still haven’t learned to ease into a conversation.”
“I doubt we have the time to waste,” he said.
“Well, you certainly have it, so does Riggi, so do I,” Hillbilly said. He put down the guitar. “We’re all relics trying to pass through the modern world. Never finished, never done.”
“Aren’t you the morose asshole this morning,” Lew said.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a work in progress,” Hillbilly said with his typical preternatural calm.
“I never thought I was,” Lew said.
Hillbilly smirked. “We all are. Don’t be arrogant. What do you need?”
“Contact information. I need you to get me to Roe.”
“Roe? You think Gene Roe is behind this?”
“Not unless he’s decided to go back on everything he stands for, but Roe knows people. He was one of the first famous trainers of the Manipulators. He trained Bryan and LeMarie, among others. You can’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” Lew said.
“It hasn’t. Roe was always about keeping life right where it was, not taking it. Besides, what makes you think I know how to get to him.”
Lew scoffed. “Please, Hillbilly, you know everyone. So, can you get me the contact?”
“I got to tell you, Lew, Roe doesn’t really do stuff like this anymore. He went underground, deep underground, for a reason.”
“But he still needs to have contacts there, right? Look, I know the crews down in Louisiana aren’t what they used to be, but there has to be a few of the old-timers kicking around. The person behind this, they have to be seriously trained.”
“I’m surprised you still think it’s only one person behind this. And what makes you think Roe’s going to share any intel with you anyway?”
“My charming personality and nice smile?”
Hillbilly shook his head. “Roe won’t talk. He really has walked away from anything even hinting at a public record. I can give you a name though, the last student Roe personally trained.” He wrote something down and handed the piece of paper to Lew.
Lew studied it and tried not to laugh. “Who names their kid Romus?”
“The same people who name their kid Wilbur, I’m guessing,” Hillbilly said.
********
“What do we know about this guy?” Runner asked as they drove into Jackson City.
Lew opened the file De L’Eau and Vera prepared for them. “Romus Valton Burgin isn’t a Manipulator on the level of Gene Roe, but he’s worked his powers enough to run a highly successful consultation firm.”
“That’s only a little unethical,” Runner said.
“Worse has already been done in the names of business and capitalism,” Lew said.
“How was it like living during the Great Depression?” Runner asked.
“I feared for my life more during the Atomic Age,” Lew said.
Runner whistled. “Holy shit,” he said staring up at the building before them. “Look at the House that Romus Built.”
“Apparently being a little unethical pays well,” Lew said.
Runner parked the car and they both craned their necks to see how high the skyscraper went.
“Business consultants work in these fancy buildings, and our Archives and Cold Case teams are stuck in leaking basements,” Runner said, “sometimes the world is really fucked up.”
“No argument there,” Lew agreed.
Lew and Runner both adjusted their suit jackets as they walked into the sleek office building. Everyone inside was too busy talking on their phones or glued to their computers to notice their entrance. It seemed typical for this type of crowd, but they weren’t exactly the class of people Lew and Runner normally handled.
Runner approached the desk first and held a quick conversation with the security guard. It must’ve worked, because a phone call was made and Lew could see movement coming from the top floors.
There was nice mixture of people among the staff, both those with extra talents and just a regular knack for business and numbers. He doubted half of them even knew the person in the cubicle next to them could climb the walls or make that memo disintegrate with their mind. This crowd wasn’t exactly the kind to let the freak flag fly, but Burgin clearly hired the best people for the positions he needed, regardless of if they could levitate or not.
An unassuming young man in a business suit emerged from the top office. Lew tracked his movements, surprised at how calm the man appeared. Most people hurried a bit more when they heard the cops were there.
“That him?” Runner asked, settling beside Lew.
“Not quite what I was expecting, but Roe always liked the subtle approach,” Lew said.
It was hard not to picture a Manipulator as some megalomaniac freak who talked about himself in the third person. Most of them though, were the quiet, unassuming type. Sure, there were a handful of assholes kicking about, but that happened in every group. What made a Manipulator succeed, more than anything, was the assumption that they were harmless. Despite all the horror movie plots and crime thriller twists, people, in general, never suspected the calm ones.
“I hate when they’re so friggin’ self-assured,” Runner said.
“At least we know he’s good at his job. Half the selling point is the illusion,” Lew said.
“Detectives,” Burgin addressed them with a warm smile and strong handshakes. “Hillbilly told me to expect you. Let’s take this to the conference room, shall we?”
Lew nodded in agreement and they followed Burgin into the conference room. Though with the bullet resistant glass and the steel reinforced door it felt more like a panic room.
“You planning on starting World War III?” Runner asked.
Burgin shook his head. “The security and privacy of our clients is an upmost priority.”
“Nice to see people still toeing the company line. Can we stop the bullshit? We’re kind of working a case and time is of the essence,” Runner said.
Burgin smirked. “People like you always want to rush through things, Detective Conley. You’ll need to learn patience to succeed at your job.”
“Because I’m really going to take advice from a business consultant,” Runner said as he sat down in disgust. “Why don’t you just tell us if you know something.”
“I know something,” Burgin said, “but I think you want me to be a bit more specific than that. No, I don’t know who is behind your recent crime wave.”
“But,” Lew prompted.
“But, I think you need to talk to someone who knows a thing or two about working inside jobs. He’s also a consultant, but he works more with international governments than what we do here. This venture is more about the smoke and mirrors of making money. His business is more about getting people to put the gun to their own heads and pull the trigger,” Burgin said.
“There are laws against that,” Lew said.
“Not if you have a government’s written permission,” Burgin said.
“That’s bullshit,” Runner said, “no one has an actual license to kill.”
“So then, you’re not certified to use your weapon with fatal force if necessary,” Burgin said.
“That’s different,” Runner argued.
“It’s a matter of perspective,” Burgin agreed. “The person I’m sending you to doesn’t have a shiny badge and a nifty uniform, but he is trained and certified just as much as you are.”
“This is turning into a wild goose chase,” Runner said.
“That’s what you get for following the white rabbit,” Burgin said. He handed them a business card. “He’ll come to you. It will be better for all concerned that way.”
A tall blonde woman entered the room, an annoyed look on her face and a cell phone in her hand. “Come on, Burgie, we have that meeting with the Nixon board members.”
“I’ll be there in a second, Virginia,” he said.
She sighed and left the room.
“I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but the stock markets wait for no man. A word of advice, for a Manipulator and a Mimic to pull off a successful job, it has to be like a stake-out. It can take years for a successful operation to come to fruition. I highly doubt, since actual bodies are being left behind, that you are dealing with that dedicated of a job. Take the time to look over your evidence again, there must be an inconsistency somewhere.”
********
The case had gone quiet and cold since Hamm’s funeral. The only thing they’d found was the identity of the strung-out kid who shot Lew. A young man by the name of Tony Peck, known around Banika for his addiction to both mithra and somnus. They couldn’t find a trace of him now, and the drug ring connection seemed like a distraction more than anything else.
Lew never did like being fucked around with.
“Please tell me you’ve got some good news,” Stone said as De L’Eau burst into the bullpen with a smile on his face.
He held up his laptop in triumph. “We’ve cracked it. Finally, we figured it out. It took five calls to his sister, and a visit to his secretary, but we’ve figured it out.”
“And that would be, what?” Morgan asked.
“They’ve mimicked Sid Phillips in his voice mails, in his e-mails, hell, at this point, they might even be mimicking him in person. It’s subtle, it’s hard to tell, but it’s all in the speech patterns. Most people wouldn’t notice it, would think he was just working to drop his Alabamian accent, but his sister said it was the one thing he always said he’d never lose. Dr. Phillips never wanted to forget where he came from. I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed,” De L’Eau said.
“Nice to know your anal retentiveness and love of semantics finally paid off,” Loudmouth said.
“And Sledge really didn’t know it wasn’t his best friend, ” Vera said.
“Sledge’s visions incapacitate him so badly some days he’s lucky enough to know his own name. He probably wouldn’t notice something that subtle, or just shrug it off as his friend changing and adjusting to his new life,” Lew said.
“And the best Manipulators and Mimics usual come with mind control. They could make a mother forget her own child,” Stone said.
“Keeps getting better,” Toye said.
“Has anyone got in contact with Corrigan?” Loudmouth asked.
“What?” Stone asked.
“I just figured, if Riggi won’t let us go to the Feds, why don’t we just call up our former illustrious leader. If it’s an inside job like Burgin and Hillbilly implied, Corrigan should know,” Loudmouth said.
“The jackass has a point,” Morgan agreed.
“If we go to Corrigan, he’ll try to take this case away from us, argue jurisdiction or purview. Corrigan would have no problem stepping on all of us for his own career advancement,” Lew said.
“You’re only a little bitter,” Gibson said.
“I wasn’t his biggest fan. I didn’t like what happened to our squad after he came in. Could just be a coincidence, but things started going to shit once he came here from the academy,” Lew said.
“Kind of like Gibson,” Morgan said.
“Fuck you,” Gibson answered.
“Aww, our boy’s all grown-up and cursing out J.P.,” Runner said, slinging an arm around Lew’s shoulders. “Aren’t you so proud of him.”
“Speaking of grown-ups, has Burgin’s mysterious friend got in contact with you?” Stone asked Lew.
“Not yet and I don’t know if he ever will. All we’ve got is a name and so far it’s not coming up on any background checks. I’d ask Lena, but I don’t want her to slap me,” Lew said.
“Always knew you were more lace than leather,” Toye said.
“Sorry to ruin your fantasies, Joe,” Lew said.
“If we try to hack any deeper into Phillips' e-mail account we’ll alert someone, if we haven’t already,” Vera said, trying to steer them back to the case.
Stone’s reply was cut-off by all the phones ringing at once.
“That’s a bad omen,” Loudmouth said. He picked up the closest phone. “Franklin City Special Interests, how may I help you?” He waited a minute and then waved the handdset. “It’s dead.”
Stone picked up another one of the phones, still ringing and made a face. “Dead air,” he said.
Runner ran around the room and checked all the phones.
“Verdict?” Stone asked when Runner slowed down enough to stay in one spot.
“All dead.”
“I hate this bullshit,” Toye said. He grabbed the closet phone. “Listen dipshit, you want to do something, try acting like a real man and not a school kid. You want our attention, the dead bodies got it. Now either do something or fuck off.” He slammed down the phone.
All the phones stopped ringing at once.
“That was smart,” De L’Eau said, “if that gets me killed, I will haunt you.”
“We tried to be nice and cordial,” Runner said, “and they shot Chuckler and killed Hamm.”
Lew shrugged. “He’s got a point,” he said, “though the pissed off reaction was probably what they were going for. Still, that’s only mildly annoyed for Toye.”
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement; even Toye couldn’t argue that one.
Lew’s cell phone started ringing.
“Answer it,” Stone said.
“Hello?” Lew asked.
“Detective Juergens,” the voice mockingly drawled, “tell Detective Toye that his professional manner needs some work.”
“Who is this?” Lew asked.
“I believe you requested a meeting with me through Romus Burgin?”
“Speirs,” Lew said.
“There’s a small bookstore at the intersection of Toombs and Parris. I hope to see you there before sundown.”
“Or what?” Lew asked.
“Or else you’ll be even more lost than you are now.”
The conversation ended with dead air.
Lew closed his phone and gathered his coat and gun. “Got a meeting to go to,” he said.
“And if it’s not Speirs?” Gibson asked.
“Then cherish these as my final words,” Lew said with a wink and a wave.
********
Ron Speirs had a calmness about him that made Lena look like a coffee addict with the shakes. He clearly didn’t see Lew or Runner as any sort of threat and seemed to take this meeting out of amusement more than a sense of duty.
“Juergens and Conley, I’ve heard about both of you,” he said by way of greeting.
Runner and Chuckler sat down in the two empty armchairs bordering the Memoir and Poetry sections.
“So, what, you run the local FBI branch or something?” Runner asked.
Speirs slowly blinked. “I would never work for such an ineffective company,” he said. “Yet I do occasionally work with them as a favor.” He sat forward. “I’m going to give you boys some advice. Some things are pure and simple, the best kind of Ops are run that way. You are not dealing with a well-run Op, you’re dealing with a corporate office and idiots who follow the rule book rather than instinct and experience.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Runner asked.
“It means all this bullshit is sponsored,” Lew said. “Inside job,” he guessed.
“You tell me,” Speirs said, “what are the main motivators for any action.”
“Greed, power, fear, and revenge,” Runner said.
“Someone does their homework,” Speirs said.
“You try finding motive behind any of this bullshit,” Runner said.
Speirs smirked. “Tell me why you think this has to be an inside job.”
“An outsider might dump a body in Banika, an insider would know it’s run by a crime syndicate. An outsider wouldn’t assume the crimes are connected. An insider, one in Special Interests, would know that we handle Banika, almost exclusively, because of its residents. Only an insider could or would send a message like that. But you know all of this already,” Lew said.
“That’s quite an assumption,” Speirs said.
“More of an educated guess. An assumption would be that you’re not only a Manipulator but a sociopath on top of it which means you kind of win the Psychosis Awards, doesn’t it? Mr. Personality, that’s you,” Lew said.
“You’re amusing,” Speirs said, “I have killed men for lesser insults.”
“You don’t seem the threatening type,” Runner said.
Speirs smiled. “That wasn’t a threat. Just a statement of fact.” He leaned back and studied the two of them. “What would you say if I told you Oswalt was a Healer?”
“I’d ask for the access to your blood tests since ours don’t show that,” Lew said.
“Oswalt was a Healer, still in training, but with a focus on the brain and the mind,” Speirs said, tapping a finger off his temple. “And what if I told you Oswalt and Phillips were working together to treat people like us both in terms of mental and physical health?”
“I’d say Oswalt was more than stumbling around Banika looking for Sledge. He’d probably need to talk with Doc Grant, someone who made a career off working with freaks like us for the past twenty years,” Runner said.
“But the minute Stella Karamanlis disappeared Doc Grant and his kids went underground. So if Oswalt was sent here--” Lew stopped mid-sentence. “Damn it, he was the distraction. They made him a sacrifice.”
“Feel free to chime in anytime, Speirs,” Runner said.
“Oh, no, I think you boys are doing a great job. I can tell you though, having read through the digital copy of your reports, that you are not dealing with a Master Manipulator. Such a person would either want to be known or wouldn’t even bother with the removal of human trace essence. It wouldn’t be there anyway. What need do Manipulators have for bullets and knives when they can simply shut your brain down,” Speirs said.
“What, no walking in front of a bus?” Lew asked.
“Human instinct goes pretty damn far,” Speirs said, “even I haven’t figured out how to diminish that yet.”
“So, no fear of a government backed zombie apocalypse? Good to know,” Runner said.
“Do you have any intel of value, Speirs?” Lew asked.
Speirs nodded. “You’re not going to get everyone behind this. I’m sorry to say, you all seem very dedicated to your jobs and I respect that. You don’t back down, I respect that even more. But you’re going against greater numbers and resources. I suggest you look to your past, you may find your answers there.”
“Do you know how long that could take?” Lew asked.
Speirs stood and pointed at Runner. “Then it’s a good thing you have him.” He tipped his head. “Detectives, good luck.”
He was gone before either of them could protest.
“What the fuck,” Runner said.
“I know, right,” Lew said.
He followed Runner out of the bookstore, nodding to the short man behind the desk.
Lew’s cell phone rang the minute they stepped outside.
“Speirs, again?” Runner asked.
“No, it’s Sledge.” Lew said. He flipped open the phone. “Gene, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sledge rasped out, “minus the whole my friend’s apparently an imposter bit. But that’s not important. You need to get down to Shelton’s hang out.”
“Gene, what’s going on?” Lew asked.
“He’s going to die if you don’t get off this phone and get him help,” Sledge said. “I’ve called 911, but Runner will get there faster. You need to go.” He hung up the phone.
“Runner, I need you to go to Shelton’s place. Sledge said he’s hurt. I’ll follow in the car.”
Runner nodded and ran off, stirring debris in the street the only sign he was once there.
Lew got in the car and took a moment to gather himself. They were being picked off, one-by-one. It was personal, that much was clear.
He sped to Shelton’s place, and heard the sirens of the approaching ambulance as he got out of the car.
Shelton was on his doorstep, still conscious, a pool of blood around him. Lew tried to put a smile on his face but it was damn hard, seeing Shelton like this.
Runner came up to him. “I tried to stop the bleeding but I didn’t want to pack the wound with anything in that house.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the trunk with sterile bandages,” Lew said.
He walked up to Shelton and crouched down beside him. “Quite a mess you got yourself in, Snaf,” he said.
“My own line about to be cut, you think,” Snafu stuttered out.
“Nah, Shelton, you’ll live to see another night,” Lew said.
Runner came back with the full first aid kit and a cell phone. “Medic called, they’re just around the corner.”
“I don’t got my insurance card,” Snafu said.
“You’ll be covered under our plan as an informant,” Runner said.
Lew stepped back and let him work, not even bothering to follow the quick movements of his hands.
“You played dead?” Lew asked.
“Like an opossum,” Shelton said, “I ain’t never seen that man before. Something mean about him. Didn’t smell right. Not from these parts. Too sterile, too clean. Smelled like an old man.”
“Was he an old man?” Lew asked.
“Older than me,” Shelton said, “Younger than you, but they all are. He reminded me of the way my daddy used to smell when we tried to go to Church. Incense and Stetson, that’s how I came to learn about God.”
“You’re rambling worse than usual,” Lew said.
Shelton’s skin was starting to go pale, his body going into shock, but there was still a lazy smile on his face.
“I knew something wasn’t right with the man,” he said. “He too big and clean cut for Banika. But I didn’t run. Punched him in the mouth.”
He held up his right first, showing the busted knuckles.
The medics arrived with the wailing sirens and the smell of diesel exhaust.
“What happened?”
Runner filled them in as they took Snafu’s vitals.
Lew grabbed a sterile swab out of the first aid kit and wiped around Snafu’s bleeding knuckles before they loaded him up.
Runner came back. “You think he’s going to be okay?”
“Shelton isn’t one to give up on life so easily. It may be a shitty life he lives, but it’s his. Ride with them, take a report.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see Leyden,” he said.
Lew watched the ambulance drive off, eyes following the flashing red lights until he could no longer see.
********
Shelton was healing nicely, enjoying all the attention of the nursing staff and the free food. It didn’t change the fact that half of their informants were now on edge. You lose an employee and a CI in less than a month, people got twitchy.
They were taking Speirs’ advice and looking into Lew’s former colleagues. It was a long list, since they couldn’t discredit the children and grandchildren of former employees.
Lew looked up from his computer when Runner dropped a stack of old photographs on his desk. He sorted through them, smiling as he caught sight of himself in the old precinct photos.
“Aren’t you the most open stalker in the world,” he said.
“I was planning on sleeping with your dirty shirts, but this seemed easier,” Runner said. He pointed to a photograph from the 1980s. “Do you remember anything from this group of detectives?”
Lew took the picture and gave it a closer look, trying not to grimace at all the Miami Vice suit styles. The 1980s really weren’t forgiving in terms of fashion. Still, ridiculous clothing and hair styles aside, the 1980s were a significant time for the Spook Squad.
“This was our first attempt to build a joint force between our squad and the original Franklin PD. I can’t say it was very successful. You had guys like Haney who really couldn’t give less of a shit, but then most of the others resented being dropped onto a force with a bunch of freaks. Thought we’d contaminate them just by breathing the same air.”
“Any of those guys held a grudge for a long time? I’m guessing that it’s someone from the 80s since Shelton smelled someone bathed in Stetson.”
“Scent memories are always strong,” Lew agreed. He looked over the pictures again, flipping through the stacks over and over. It was difficult, Lew was still about staying to himself in those days. The world had changed pretty damn rapidly, and the 80s were his time of adjustment. He stopped at the team photo from 1988.
“I wouldn’t call it a grudge, but this guy, Jameson, he wasn’t exactly happy I made detective when I’d never been to the Academy. He was one of those by the book guys. Didn’t stay here long, went to the military as far as I know.”
“Were you guys jackasses to him?” Runner asked.
“Other than typical make-the-new-guys-sweat? Nah,” Lew said.
“But could he have taken it that way? You guys can be pretty harsh and hell, I can’t imagine what it was like back then, attitude and all,” Runner said.
“I don’t think he ran away to the military looking for warm fuzzies but anything’s possible. I really don’t remember much about the guy. He was one of those overenthusiastic meatheads. Said he would kill anyone who got in his way but never fired his weapon. Not that that’s a loss, most cops would love to never use fatal force, but Jameson was the type a guy who thought the gun and the badge made him a badass,” Lew said.
“And you have no idea where he is now?”
“He wasn’t exactly one for the reunions. Haney didn’t keep up with him, so no idea.”
“Worth a look, isn’t it?”
“Considering how little we have by way of leads, sure. Go see Lena first, make sure we won’t be stepping on any toes,” Lew said.
Runner gulped. “Shouldn’t you go see her?”
“You have to learn how to to talk to the Chief of Police, Will, now’s a good a time as any to start.”
“Okay,” Runner said with the conviction of a man about to go to the gallows.
Lew shook his head and turned back to his laptop. He had three e-mails. One from Leyden, telling him his evidence was back and that he needed to come see the results in person. One from Sledge telling him to go see Leyden ASAP, and after, if he could please bring Sledge some painkillers. And another one from Shelton, asking him to stop by for a visit and that it wouldn’t kill him to go see Leyden.
Lew didn’t know what was going on, but he guessed he needed to go to the lab.
“Don’t go see Leyden,” Leckie said. He collapsed in Runner’s chair, looking like he had run all the way to the precinct.
“Nice to see you too, Bob,” Lew said. He reached into his desk and pulled out a water bottle, dropping it in front of Leckie. “But I kind of have to go. If it’s something Leyden’s not comfortable e-mailing about, it needs to be seen in person.”
“Bad idea to go down there, Juergens,” Leckie said.
“Bob, you’re telling me not to go down there. Sledge is telling me I have to and Shelton says he doesn’t think he sees me dying today so what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Bob gulped down the water and shrugged. “I guess you’ve got to go then.”
“Thank you,” Lew said. He put on his jacket. “Why don’t you hang around, bother Loudmouth and De L’Eau for a bit. Vera and Stone should be back from their meeting in an hour.”
“I’ll keep your chair warm, Lew,” he said, “good luck.”
Lew gave Leckie a confused smile and shook his head. People were acting all kinds of strange today.
********
The sky was dark by the time he got to the lab, a storm coming in or something worse. Lew got out of his car and looked around. It was quiet with an unnatural absence of sound. He reached into his coat, felt his fingertips brush his phone and sent out the distress code. Lew knew what it felt like to walk into a fight, he was achingly familiar with the concept, and nothing about this was good.
“Sound and weather manipulation, that’s cute,” Lew called out, “I just hope you weren’t stupid enough to mess with anyone inside that building.”
“Oh, like him,” a man’s voice yelled out.
Leyden came scrambling out the door way. His face was busted up, but he looked more pissed off than seriously hurt.
“You beat up Leyden? Hell, most people would consider that a civil service,” Lew said. Lew dropped his phone into Leyden’s hands and shoved him behind the car. “Why don’t you come out so I can congratulate you.”
“And what makes you think I’d find that as something worthy,” the man said. He stepped out of the building, guns out.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Lew said as he came face-to-face with Jameson.
“Juergens, I really think you would’ve figured it out before now,” he said.
“Honestly, Jameson, you weren’t even on my radar. I hadn’t thought about you in years, but hell, Shelton was right. You are bathed in Stetson,” Lew said.
“Didn’t they teach you not to antagonize an assailant?” Jameson asked. “Oh, that’s right, you never went to the Academy.”
“Nah, Jameson, in my day we believed experience was the best teacher, not schoolbooks. It helped weed out all the assholes who were only in it for bragging rights and badge bunnies.”
“And look where that got you,” Jameson said, “you’re still just a detective.”
“We can’t all be roaches on the bottom rung of the government ladder,” Lew said.
Jameson laughed before aiming his gun and shooting Lew in the kneecap.
Lew’s instincts let him lean on the car rather than crumple on to the ground. It always was a shock to the system, and a bullet in the kneecap was still a bullet in the kneecap, accelerated healing rate or not.
The only problem was the cells weren’t going through their sickly sweet feeling of reknitting and reforming.
“Not such a big man now, are you? You like our new experiment? We found a way to coat the bullets to work against freaks like you.”
“You abducted a girl, killed two people, attacked a good number of police officers and informants all to shoot me in the kneecap? What is your fucking problem,” Lew said.
“You’re just our guinea pigs. Look at how those Franklin City Freaks can’t take care of their own population. You think you’re really a big concern for us?”
“You tell me, Jameson, you’re the one going around killing in the name of what? Government? Science? Progress? Does your mind not understand how fucked up that is or are you really just that stupid?”
“It’s for the greater good. For the protection of my people,” Jameson said.
“Our people,” Lew corrected, “last time I checked we’re all still humans here.”
“You’re not human,” Jameson said. He fired off another round, this one going through Lew’s shoulder.
Lew didn’t bother to stop the cursing that spilled out. He didn’t want to give Jameson the satisfaction to hear it, but hell, it made Lew feel better. Of course, that could also be the fact that he could hear Runner approaching and that his knee cap was finally knitting itself together.
“I didn’t think they let nut-jobs like you out among the general population. You’ve got to tell me that’s just a bit more of a concern,” Lew said.
Jameson laughed and lifted his gun one more time. He crumpled to the ground before he could make the final shot.
Lew looked around, trying to find who pulled the trigger. Runner was behind the car with Leyden, so it couldn’t have been him.
Lena approached from inside the lab, a man in a Marine uniform beside her.
“Nice shot, Lena,” he called out.
“I told you I had it covered,” she said. She walked over to him. “You okay, Lew?”
“Already healing. What about Jameson?” he asked.
“They don’t let me use tasers with fatal force,” she said.
“Who’s the new guy?”
“My contact from Washington.”
“Do I get a name?”
“No,” Lena said, “he’s here to finish up the job.”
Lew snorted. “It’s not already finished.”
Lena shook her head. “Lew, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. If you think we do mind fucks on our new recruits, you have no idea what those other places do.”
Lew shook his head. He thankfully took the offer of Lena’s free shoulder. “Everything’s going to disappear, isn’t it? Like none of this ever happened. Like it was all a bad dream.”
“You know how it goes,” Lena said.
“What about Stella?”
“Her and her family were paid a large sum of money. Her information concerning Doc Grant and the Banika Syndicate was very valuable to the DEA.”
“And Phillips?” Lew asked.
“He’s going back down to Alabama for a bit.”
“This is fucked up, Lena,” Lew said.
“I know,” Lena agreed.
An ambulance came roaring into the parking lot along with a clean-up crew.
“Your ride is here,” Lena said, “Conley, stop eavesdropping with Leyden and get your asses over here.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said.
Lena patted Lew on the back and transferred him over to Runner’s free shoulder.
“Say hi to Shelton for me, boys,” she said, “I’ve got to go handle this.”
Lew turned to Runner. “Nice of you to show up. Any slower there, Grandma, and I might be dead,” he said.
“Christ, Lew, stop talking,” Leyden said. “I have a fucking headache the size of Manhattan and you won’t shut up.”
Lew never laughed so hard getting into an ambulance.
********
It was two weeks after the incident and they were still cleaning up the mess. It was hard as hell to bury something and erase all knowledge of its existence in the digital age. And Lew was still pissed off about it all.
“What’s the fucking point,” Lew said, slamming down a stack of paperwork. “We got Jameson but you can’t tell me there’s not a whole crew backing him. God knows how many people are behind this and now we’re shut down by the Alphabet Organizations because one of their own was a friggin’ psycho.”
“But we got Hamm’s killer, Lew. We’ve got the guy who killed Oswalt, kidnapped Karamanlis and tried to gut Shelton. That matters to their families,” Stone said.
“It just feels like some bullshit test. From Jones, to Burgin, to Speirs, it fears like they’re laughing at us, judging us. And Speirs knew where Stella was all along. And she’s not talking to us. What the hell, Stone?”
Stone patted Lew on the shoulder. “You’ve been playing this game longer than any of us here. Even Lena hasn’t spent as much time in the trenches as you. It’s hard not to take this one personally. And yeah, this whole thing is reeking with so much bullshit I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if they were testing Sledge’s capacity to stay sane or our ability to do our jobs or what. But Lew, you of all people know how hard it is to go against a shadow organization with the full backing of the government.”
Lew snorted at that. “You’re right,” he agreed, “so, what the hell are you doing here on your day off? I thought Mac was dragging you down south for some antiquing or some bullshit.”
Stone gripped the back of his own neck, his tell that he was delivering bad news.
“What is it?” Lew asked.
“You’re being reassigned,” Stone said.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Lew asked.
Stone shook his head. “Look, after the whole blow up it’s been decided by city hall that the whole precinct needs to be restructured and expanded.”
“So we’re being punished.”
“You’re being promoted,” Stone said, “it was supposed to happen two years ago but Corrigan buried it before it could go through. Something about you and Leckie rendering his car ineffective.”
“We wanted to see if the sugar in the gas tank thing was true.”
“Why didn’t you just ask one of the mechanics?”
“I’m all about the practical application. Is Runner coming?”
“No.”
“Can I refuse the promotion?”
“Yeah, if you want to be a detective in the archival unit.”
“So, no choice then.”
“It might be good for you to finally stand on your own, Juergens. And I don’t think Conley would applaud you putting your career on hold while you wait for him to catch up. Look, as stupid as you are--”
“Thanks, Vin,”
“-You are damn good at doing your job. It might annoy the hell out of me how you somehow manage to always get your work done, but you know what you’re doing. You know how to use your instincts and you have a scary high case solve rate for someone who is not a Reader.”
“When’s my last day?” Lew asked.
“Next Friday,” Stone said.
“Damn, they don’t waste time.”
“Lena was fighting it, but she lost this one.”
“Thanks for telling me, Vin.”
Stone patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not like we’re never going to see you again.”
“You sure about that?”
“I have a feeling,” Stone said before leaving.
Lew tried not to get pissed off but it really wasn’t working. This was his home, damn it, and he was being evicted.
“So, you’re leaving us for the big office,” Runner said, taking his seat.
“Stone made it pretty clear I didn’t have a choice.”
“Hey, the higher-ups need a guy like you in their pay grade. You can shake things up from the inside.”
“Nice to know you still think a lot of me.”
Runner shrugged. “Well, since you’ve been around since they laid the cornerstone of this city--”
“Funny, really, classic.”
Runner went quiet for a minute and fiddled with everything on his desk.
“Damn, Sasquatch,” Runner said, “you’re going to make me cry.”
Lew laughed. “Like you didn’t know Stone was setting you up to work with Gibson from the start.”
“I was just waiting for you to catch up,” Runner said.
“Just too fast for an old man like me,” Lew said.
“So, what do we do now?” Runner asked.
Lew handed one of the paper files to Runner and kicked the shredder over to his side of the desk.
“We keep doing our job, just like always.”
Lew didn’t care who he scared or woke up as he slammed open the doors to the precinct. A hot lead didn’t care about proper entrances.
“Are you drunk?” Runner asked.
“Only a little bit,” Lew admitted. He headed straight for the white board and tacked up the magazine.
“Dr. Sidney Phillips,” he proclaimed.
“Can I buy a vowel?” Toye asked.
Everyone laughed at that, even Stone.
“What’s your point, Juergens?” he asked.
“Dr. Phillips makes his living writing about the psychology of our freak minds and positing theories about how we survive and cope in the world,” Lew said.
“Yeah, we know,” Morgan said, “what’s your point.”
“Doc Grant, when not running Banika’s drug ring, works as an actual doctor in that part of the city,” Lew said.
“So? They’re two doctors, we knew that,” Loudmouth said.
“Doc Grant and Phillips pretty much do the same exact thing only on different levels and with different motivations. Phillips is trying his best to make the rest of the population understand us, while Grant is trying to help the kids in Banika understand themselves. The only thing that separates the two of them is their level of notoriety and their clientele,” Stone said.
“And their sides of the law,” Vera said.
“The money the Banika Syndicate makes in its arms deals and drug running goes to treat anyone who seeks asylum with Doc Grant. It’s why we let them handle their own territory, by decree of Chief of Police Riggi,” De L’Eau said.
“So, what, Phillips has gone all dark side now?” Runner asked. “I can’t see him wanting to pin murders on his old buddy Sledge.”
“Sledge said he’s been keeping up with Sid through e-mails and phone calls. He seemed damn sure it was the real Sidney Phillips,” De L’Eau said.
“Maybe it was,” Lew said, “or maybe it was a Mimic. We’ve already got a Manipulator out there, it wouldn’t be a stretch for a Mimic. Phillips is a public figure, so a Mimic would have ample resources for learning him.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Toye said, “just answer me this: Why Sledge?”
“Because the general public wouldn’t have trouble believing that a hermit-like Sibyl with his level of powers could go crazy and murder people. They could say Phillips planted the idea in Sledge’s brain, so you bring down Phillips, Sledge, and our community all in one blow.” Lew shrugged. “At least that’s one of my working theories.”
“Or the sleep deprivation,” Runner said.
“I’m almost impressed,” Stone said, “it would explain why someone would take Karamanlis. She knows all of Grant’s clients and where to find them.”
“What are we dealing with here?” Gibson asked. “Is it like, a mob hit or some kids writing Helter Skelter on a wall.”
“If you ask our Chief of Police, she’s leaning more towards Tuskegee,” Stone said. “Mimics can recognize other Mimics. We need to talk to one.”
“Hillbilly,” Lew said.
“Wait until it’s a decent hour. I don’t want Haldane calling down here to rip me a new asshole before I’ve had my coffee,” Stone said.
“So what do we do in the meantime?” Blithe asked.
“Get some fucking sleep and do enough work to see if Juergen’s theory is plausible,” Stone ordered. He pointed at De L’Eau and Vera. “Hack into Sledge’s e-mail account, then go into Phillips’. See if it’s really him or just an imitator. Gibson, get me that report on the interview with Leckie.”
“I can’t, Lieutenant,” Gibson said.
“And why not?” Stone asked.
Gibson held out his phone. “I don’t know what happened to it, all my notes about the case are wiped off. It’s still working, must just be a memory glitch.”
Stone pinched his brow. “Of course it did. Fine, just give me a report on what you remember. Juergens, for Christ’s sake, get some sleep. Toye, Blithe, and Morgan, go down to the archives. See if we’ve come across any of this bullshit and the past.”
“What about me?” Runner asked.
“You can go get the coffee,” Stone said, “and I expect you back here in less than ten minutes.”
“What happened to never taking advantage of my powers for tasks not related to case-work?” Runner asked, quoting the rule book word-for-word.
Stone shrugged. “Get me my coffee or not, I’m still the one who signs off on your timecard.”
Runner was gone before Lew even had the chance to put in his order.
********
Lew could count on one hand the number of times he’d had a one-on-one conversation with Edward “Hillbilly” Jones. It wasn’t often he was in town long enough for a chat, and he wasn’t a coffee date kind of guy.
“So, Hillbilly is a Mimic,” Runner said. He rolled his eyes and asked, “Why is it always Classical Mythology?”
“Because government researchers aren’t too far out of the academic ivory towers,” Lew said. He parked in front of the community center just as the sun started to rise. “Hillbilly’s not just any Mimic. He’s travelled the world, learned from, and trained some of the best. He’s even worked with governments.”
“Hard to believe for a man who seems to make a living at playing instruments,” Runner said.
Lew shrugged. “Who Hillbilly is as a professional, and who he is off-the-clock, are two very different people.”
Haldane met them at the door of the community center.
“Sledge called, said you were coming,” he said, “it’s a good thing. Eddie was about to ship out again.”
“Any particular reason for that?” Runner asked.
Haldane smirked. “You think we haven’t noticed the bodies piling up? Hillbilly just goes for a more discreet method.” He patted both of them on the shoulders. “I am sorry for your loss. Hamm was a good kid.”
“His parents are asking for donations to the support societies, if you want to do something,” Lew said.
Haldane nodded. “I will.” He waved to the staircase. “You two know the way up. I’ve got a class to teach.”
“Take Runner with you,” Lew said.
“What the fuck?” Runner asked.
“I need to ask Hillbilly some things you don’t have the clearance to know,” Lew said. “Stone would have my balls, Will, I’m sorry. Trust me, you’ll enjoy art class with Mr. Haldane.”
Haldane laughed. “I excel at finger painting.”
“Whatever,” Runner muttered.
Lew watched them until he knew they were both safe behind the classroom door. He ran up the steps to Haldane’s office. Hillbilly was already there, fingers plucking away at an acoustic guitar.
“Do you know who is behind this?” he asked.
Hillbilly shook his head. “One thing I’ve always admired about you, Lew. You still haven’t learned to ease into a conversation.”
“I doubt we have the time to waste,” he said.
“Well, you certainly have it, so does Riggi, so do I,” Hillbilly said. He put down the guitar. “We’re all relics trying to pass through the modern world. Never finished, never done.”
“Aren’t you the morose asshole this morning,” Lew said.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a work in progress,” Hillbilly said with his typical preternatural calm.
“I never thought I was,” Lew said.
Hillbilly smirked. “We all are. Don’t be arrogant. What do you need?”
“Contact information. I need you to get me to Roe.”
“Roe? You think Gene Roe is behind this?”
“Not unless he’s decided to go back on everything he stands for, but Roe knows people. He was one of the first famous trainers of the Manipulators. He trained Bryan and LeMarie, among others. You can’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” Lew said.
“It hasn’t. Roe was always about keeping life right where it was, not taking it. Besides, what makes you think I know how to get to him.”
Lew scoffed. “Please, Hillbilly, you know everyone. So, can you get me the contact?”
“I got to tell you, Lew, Roe doesn’t really do stuff like this anymore. He went underground, deep underground, for a reason.”
“But he still needs to have contacts there, right? Look, I know the crews down in Louisiana aren’t what they used to be, but there has to be a few of the old-timers kicking around. The person behind this, they have to be seriously trained.”
“I’m surprised you still think it’s only one person behind this. And what makes you think Roe’s going to share any intel with you anyway?”
“My charming personality and nice smile?”
Hillbilly shook his head. “Roe won’t talk. He really has walked away from anything even hinting at a public record. I can give you a name though, the last student Roe personally trained.” He wrote something down and handed the piece of paper to Lew.
Lew studied it and tried not to laugh. “Who names their kid Romus?”
“The same people who name their kid Wilbur, I’m guessing,” Hillbilly said.
********
“What do we know about this guy?” Runner asked as they drove into Jackson City.
Lew opened the file De L’Eau and Vera prepared for them. “Romus Valton Burgin isn’t a Manipulator on the level of Gene Roe, but he’s worked his powers enough to run a highly successful consultation firm.”
“That’s only a little unethical,” Runner said.
“Worse has already been done in the names of business and capitalism,” Lew said.
“How was it like living during the Great Depression?” Runner asked.
“I feared for my life more during the Atomic Age,” Lew said.
Runner whistled. “Holy shit,” he said staring up at the building before them. “Look at the House that Romus Built.”
“Apparently being a little unethical pays well,” Lew said.
Runner parked the car and they both craned their necks to see how high the skyscraper went.
“Business consultants work in these fancy buildings, and our Archives and Cold Case teams are stuck in leaking basements,” Runner said, “sometimes the world is really fucked up.”
“No argument there,” Lew agreed.
Lew and Runner both adjusted their suit jackets as they walked into the sleek office building. Everyone inside was too busy talking on their phones or glued to their computers to notice their entrance. It seemed typical for this type of crowd, but they weren’t exactly the class of people Lew and Runner normally handled.
Runner approached the desk first and held a quick conversation with the security guard. It must’ve worked, because a phone call was made and Lew could see movement coming from the top floors.
There was nice mixture of people among the staff, both those with extra talents and just a regular knack for business and numbers. He doubted half of them even knew the person in the cubicle next to them could climb the walls or make that memo disintegrate with their mind. This crowd wasn’t exactly the kind to let the freak flag fly, but Burgin clearly hired the best people for the positions he needed, regardless of if they could levitate or not.
An unassuming young man in a business suit emerged from the top office. Lew tracked his movements, surprised at how calm the man appeared. Most people hurried a bit more when they heard the cops were there.
“That him?” Runner asked, settling beside Lew.
“Not quite what I was expecting, but Roe always liked the subtle approach,” Lew said.
It was hard not to picture a Manipulator as some megalomaniac freak who talked about himself in the third person. Most of them though, were the quiet, unassuming type. Sure, there were a handful of assholes kicking about, but that happened in every group. What made a Manipulator succeed, more than anything, was the assumption that they were harmless. Despite all the horror movie plots and crime thriller twists, people, in general, never suspected the calm ones.
“I hate when they’re so friggin’ self-assured,” Runner said.
“At least we know he’s good at his job. Half the selling point is the illusion,” Lew said.
“Detectives,” Burgin addressed them with a warm smile and strong handshakes. “Hillbilly told me to expect you. Let’s take this to the conference room, shall we?”
Lew nodded in agreement and they followed Burgin into the conference room. Though with the bullet resistant glass and the steel reinforced door it felt more like a panic room.
“You planning on starting World War III?” Runner asked.
Burgin shook his head. “The security and privacy of our clients is an upmost priority.”
“Nice to see people still toeing the company line. Can we stop the bullshit? We’re kind of working a case and time is of the essence,” Runner said.
Burgin smirked. “People like you always want to rush through things, Detective Conley. You’ll need to learn patience to succeed at your job.”
“Because I’m really going to take advice from a business consultant,” Runner said as he sat down in disgust. “Why don’t you just tell us if you know something.”
“I know something,” Burgin said, “but I think you want me to be a bit more specific than that. No, I don’t know who is behind your recent crime wave.”
“But,” Lew prompted.
“But, I think you need to talk to someone who knows a thing or two about working inside jobs. He’s also a consultant, but he works more with international governments than what we do here. This venture is more about the smoke and mirrors of making money. His business is more about getting people to put the gun to their own heads and pull the trigger,” Burgin said.
“There are laws against that,” Lew said.
“Not if you have a government’s written permission,” Burgin said.
“That’s bullshit,” Runner said, “no one has an actual license to kill.”
“So then, you’re not certified to use your weapon with fatal force if necessary,” Burgin said.
“That’s different,” Runner argued.
“It’s a matter of perspective,” Burgin agreed. “The person I’m sending you to doesn’t have a shiny badge and a nifty uniform, but he is trained and certified just as much as you are.”
“This is turning into a wild goose chase,” Runner said.
“That’s what you get for following the white rabbit,” Burgin said. He handed them a business card. “He’ll come to you. It will be better for all concerned that way.”
A tall blonde woman entered the room, an annoyed look on her face and a cell phone in her hand. “Come on, Burgie, we have that meeting with the Nixon board members.”
“I’ll be there in a second, Virginia,” he said.
She sighed and left the room.
“I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but the stock markets wait for no man. A word of advice, for a Manipulator and a Mimic to pull off a successful job, it has to be like a stake-out. It can take years for a successful operation to come to fruition. I highly doubt, since actual bodies are being left behind, that you are dealing with that dedicated of a job. Take the time to look over your evidence again, there must be an inconsistency somewhere.”
********
The case had gone quiet and cold since Hamm’s funeral. The only thing they’d found was the identity of the strung-out kid who shot Lew. A young man by the name of Tony Peck, known around Banika for his addiction to both mithra and somnus. They couldn’t find a trace of him now, and the drug ring connection seemed like a distraction more than anything else.
Lew never did like being fucked around with.
“Please tell me you’ve got some good news,” Stone said as De L’Eau burst into the bullpen with a smile on his face.
He held up his laptop in triumph. “We’ve cracked it. Finally, we figured it out. It took five calls to his sister, and a visit to his secretary, but we’ve figured it out.”
“And that would be, what?” Morgan asked.
“They’ve mimicked Sid Phillips in his voice mails, in his e-mails, hell, at this point, they might even be mimicking him in person. It’s subtle, it’s hard to tell, but it’s all in the speech patterns. Most people wouldn’t notice it, would think he was just working to drop his Alabamian accent, but his sister said it was the one thing he always said he’d never lose. Dr. Phillips never wanted to forget where he came from. I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed,” De L’Eau said.
“Nice to know your anal retentiveness and love of semantics finally paid off,” Loudmouth said.
“And Sledge really didn’t know it wasn’t his best friend, ” Vera said.
“Sledge’s visions incapacitate him so badly some days he’s lucky enough to know his own name. He probably wouldn’t notice something that subtle, or just shrug it off as his friend changing and adjusting to his new life,” Lew said.
“And the best Manipulators and Mimics usual come with mind control. They could make a mother forget her own child,” Stone said.
“Keeps getting better,” Toye said.
“Has anyone got in contact with Corrigan?” Loudmouth asked.
“What?” Stone asked.
“I just figured, if Riggi won’t let us go to the Feds, why don’t we just call up our former illustrious leader. If it’s an inside job like Burgin and Hillbilly implied, Corrigan should know,” Loudmouth said.
“The jackass has a point,” Morgan agreed.
“If we go to Corrigan, he’ll try to take this case away from us, argue jurisdiction or purview. Corrigan would have no problem stepping on all of us for his own career advancement,” Lew said.
“You’re only a little bitter,” Gibson said.
“I wasn’t his biggest fan. I didn’t like what happened to our squad after he came in. Could just be a coincidence, but things started going to shit once he came here from the academy,” Lew said.
“Kind of like Gibson,” Morgan said.
“Fuck you,” Gibson answered.
“Aww, our boy’s all grown-up and cursing out J.P.,” Runner said, slinging an arm around Lew’s shoulders. “Aren’t you so proud of him.”
“Speaking of grown-ups, has Burgin’s mysterious friend got in contact with you?” Stone asked Lew.
“Not yet and I don’t know if he ever will. All we’ve got is a name and so far it’s not coming up on any background checks. I’d ask Lena, but I don’t want her to slap me,” Lew said.
“Always knew you were more lace than leather,” Toye said.
“Sorry to ruin your fantasies, Joe,” Lew said.
“If we try to hack any deeper into Phillips' e-mail account we’ll alert someone, if we haven’t already,” Vera said, trying to steer them back to the case.
Stone’s reply was cut-off by all the phones ringing at once.
“That’s a bad omen,” Loudmouth said. He picked up the closest phone. “Franklin City Special Interests, how may I help you?” He waited a minute and then waved the handdset. “It’s dead.”
Stone picked up another one of the phones, still ringing and made a face. “Dead air,” he said.
Runner ran around the room and checked all the phones.
“Verdict?” Stone asked when Runner slowed down enough to stay in one spot.
“All dead.”
“I hate this bullshit,” Toye said. He grabbed the closet phone. “Listen dipshit, you want to do something, try acting like a real man and not a school kid. You want our attention, the dead bodies got it. Now either do something or fuck off.” He slammed down the phone.
All the phones stopped ringing at once.
“That was smart,” De L’Eau said, “if that gets me killed, I will haunt you.”
“We tried to be nice and cordial,” Runner said, “and they shot Chuckler and killed Hamm.”
Lew shrugged. “He’s got a point,” he said, “though the pissed off reaction was probably what they were going for. Still, that’s only mildly annoyed for Toye.”
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement; even Toye couldn’t argue that one.
Lew’s cell phone started ringing.
“Answer it,” Stone said.
“Hello?” Lew asked.
“Detective Juergens,” the voice mockingly drawled, “tell Detective Toye that his professional manner needs some work.”
“Who is this?” Lew asked.
“I believe you requested a meeting with me through Romus Burgin?”
“Speirs,” Lew said.
“There’s a small bookstore at the intersection of Toombs and Parris. I hope to see you there before sundown.”
“Or what?” Lew asked.
“Or else you’ll be even more lost than you are now.”
The conversation ended with dead air.
Lew closed his phone and gathered his coat and gun. “Got a meeting to go to,” he said.
“And if it’s not Speirs?” Gibson asked.
“Then cherish these as my final words,” Lew said with a wink and a wave.
********
Ron Speirs had a calmness about him that made Lena look like a coffee addict with the shakes. He clearly didn’t see Lew or Runner as any sort of threat and seemed to take this meeting out of amusement more than a sense of duty.
“Juergens and Conley, I’ve heard about both of you,” he said by way of greeting.
Runner and Chuckler sat down in the two empty armchairs bordering the Memoir and Poetry sections.
“So, what, you run the local FBI branch or something?” Runner asked.
Speirs slowly blinked. “I would never work for such an ineffective company,” he said. “Yet I do occasionally work with them as a favor.” He sat forward. “I’m going to give you boys some advice. Some things are pure and simple, the best kind of Ops are run that way. You are not dealing with a well-run Op, you’re dealing with a corporate office and idiots who follow the rule book rather than instinct and experience.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Runner asked.
“It means all this bullshit is sponsored,” Lew said. “Inside job,” he guessed.
“You tell me,” Speirs said, “what are the main motivators for any action.”
“Greed, power, fear, and revenge,” Runner said.
“Someone does their homework,” Speirs said.
“You try finding motive behind any of this bullshit,” Runner said.
Speirs smirked. “Tell me why you think this has to be an inside job.”
“An outsider might dump a body in Banika, an insider would know it’s run by a crime syndicate. An outsider wouldn’t assume the crimes are connected. An insider, one in Special Interests, would know that we handle Banika, almost exclusively, because of its residents. Only an insider could or would send a message like that. But you know all of this already,” Lew said.
“That’s quite an assumption,” Speirs said.
“More of an educated guess. An assumption would be that you’re not only a Manipulator but a sociopath on top of it which means you kind of win the Psychosis Awards, doesn’t it? Mr. Personality, that’s you,” Lew said.
“You’re amusing,” Speirs said, “I have killed men for lesser insults.”
“You don’t seem the threatening type,” Runner said.
Speirs smiled. “That wasn’t a threat. Just a statement of fact.” He leaned back and studied the two of them. “What would you say if I told you Oswalt was a Healer?”
“I’d ask for the access to your blood tests since ours don’t show that,” Lew said.
“Oswalt was a Healer, still in training, but with a focus on the brain and the mind,” Speirs said, tapping a finger off his temple. “And what if I told you Oswalt and Phillips were working together to treat people like us both in terms of mental and physical health?”
“I’d say Oswalt was more than stumbling around Banika looking for Sledge. He’d probably need to talk with Doc Grant, someone who made a career off working with freaks like us for the past twenty years,” Runner said.
“But the minute Stella Karamanlis disappeared Doc Grant and his kids went underground. So if Oswalt was sent here--” Lew stopped mid-sentence. “Damn it, he was the distraction. They made him a sacrifice.”
“Feel free to chime in anytime, Speirs,” Runner said.
“Oh, no, I think you boys are doing a great job. I can tell you though, having read through the digital copy of your reports, that you are not dealing with a Master Manipulator. Such a person would either want to be known or wouldn’t even bother with the removal of human trace essence. It wouldn’t be there anyway. What need do Manipulators have for bullets and knives when they can simply shut your brain down,” Speirs said.
“What, no walking in front of a bus?” Lew asked.
“Human instinct goes pretty damn far,” Speirs said, “even I haven’t figured out how to diminish that yet.”
“So, no fear of a government backed zombie apocalypse? Good to know,” Runner said.
“Do you have any intel of value, Speirs?” Lew asked.
Speirs nodded. “You’re not going to get everyone behind this. I’m sorry to say, you all seem very dedicated to your jobs and I respect that. You don’t back down, I respect that even more. But you’re going against greater numbers and resources. I suggest you look to your past, you may find your answers there.”
“Do you know how long that could take?” Lew asked.
Speirs stood and pointed at Runner. “Then it’s a good thing you have him.” He tipped his head. “Detectives, good luck.”
He was gone before either of them could protest.
“What the fuck,” Runner said.
“I know, right,” Lew said.
He followed Runner out of the bookstore, nodding to the short man behind the desk.
Lew’s cell phone rang the minute they stepped outside.
“Speirs, again?” Runner asked.
“No, it’s Sledge.” Lew said. He flipped open the phone. “Gene, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sledge rasped out, “minus the whole my friend’s apparently an imposter bit. But that’s not important. You need to get down to Shelton’s hang out.”
“Gene, what’s going on?” Lew asked.
“He’s going to die if you don’t get off this phone and get him help,” Sledge said. “I’ve called 911, but Runner will get there faster. You need to go.” He hung up the phone.
“Runner, I need you to go to Shelton’s place. Sledge said he’s hurt. I’ll follow in the car.”
Runner nodded and ran off, stirring debris in the street the only sign he was once there.
Lew got in the car and took a moment to gather himself. They were being picked off, one-by-one. It was personal, that much was clear.
He sped to Shelton’s place, and heard the sirens of the approaching ambulance as he got out of the car.
Shelton was on his doorstep, still conscious, a pool of blood around him. Lew tried to put a smile on his face but it was damn hard, seeing Shelton like this.
Runner came up to him. “I tried to stop the bleeding but I didn’t want to pack the wound with anything in that house.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the trunk with sterile bandages,” Lew said.
He walked up to Shelton and crouched down beside him. “Quite a mess you got yourself in, Snaf,” he said.
“My own line about to be cut, you think,” Snafu stuttered out.
“Nah, Shelton, you’ll live to see another night,” Lew said.
Runner came back with the full first aid kit and a cell phone. “Medic called, they’re just around the corner.”
“I don’t got my insurance card,” Snafu said.
“You’ll be covered under our plan as an informant,” Runner said.
Lew stepped back and let him work, not even bothering to follow the quick movements of his hands.
“You played dead?” Lew asked.
“Like an opossum,” Shelton said, “I ain’t never seen that man before. Something mean about him. Didn’t smell right. Not from these parts. Too sterile, too clean. Smelled like an old man.”
“Was he an old man?” Lew asked.
“Older than me,” Shelton said, “Younger than you, but they all are. He reminded me of the way my daddy used to smell when we tried to go to Church. Incense and Stetson, that’s how I came to learn about God.”
“You’re rambling worse than usual,” Lew said.
Shelton’s skin was starting to go pale, his body going into shock, but there was still a lazy smile on his face.
“I knew something wasn’t right with the man,” he said. “He too big and clean cut for Banika. But I didn’t run. Punched him in the mouth.”
He held up his right first, showing the busted knuckles.
The medics arrived with the wailing sirens and the smell of diesel exhaust.
“What happened?”
Runner filled them in as they took Snafu’s vitals.
Lew grabbed a sterile swab out of the first aid kit and wiped around Snafu’s bleeding knuckles before they loaded him up.
Runner came back. “You think he’s going to be okay?”
“Shelton isn’t one to give up on life so easily. It may be a shitty life he lives, but it’s his. Ride with them, take a report.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see Leyden,” he said.
Lew watched the ambulance drive off, eyes following the flashing red lights until he could no longer see.
********
Shelton was healing nicely, enjoying all the attention of the nursing staff and the free food. It didn’t change the fact that half of their informants were now on edge. You lose an employee and a CI in less than a month, people got twitchy.
They were taking Speirs’ advice and looking into Lew’s former colleagues. It was a long list, since they couldn’t discredit the children and grandchildren of former employees.
Lew looked up from his computer when Runner dropped a stack of old photographs on his desk. He sorted through them, smiling as he caught sight of himself in the old precinct photos.
“Aren’t you the most open stalker in the world,” he said.
“I was planning on sleeping with your dirty shirts, but this seemed easier,” Runner said. He pointed to a photograph from the 1980s. “Do you remember anything from this group of detectives?”
Lew took the picture and gave it a closer look, trying not to grimace at all the Miami Vice suit styles. The 1980s really weren’t forgiving in terms of fashion. Still, ridiculous clothing and hair styles aside, the 1980s were a significant time for the Spook Squad.
“This was our first attempt to build a joint force between our squad and the original Franklin PD. I can’t say it was very successful. You had guys like Haney who really couldn’t give less of a shit, but then most of the others resented being dropped onto a force with a bunch of freaks. Thought we’d contaminate them just by breathing the same air.”
“Any of those guys held a grudge for a long time? I’m guessing that it’s someone from the 80s since Shelton smelled someone bathed in Stetson.”
“Scent memories are always strong,” Lew agreed. He looked over the pictures again, flipping through the stacks over and over. It was difficult, Lew was still about staying to himself in those days. The world had changed pretty damn rapidly, and the 80s were his time of adjustment. He stopped at the team photo from 1988.
“I wouldn’t call it a grudge, but this guy, Jameson, he wasn’t exactly happy I made detective when I’d never been to the Academy. He was one of those by the book guys. Didn’t stay here long, went to the military as far as I know.”
“Were you guys jackasses to him?” Runner asked.
“Other than typical make-the-new-guys-sweat? Nah,” Lew said.
“But could he have taken it that way? You guys can be pretty harsh and hell, I can’t imagine what it was like back then, attitude and all,” Runner said.
“I don’t think he ran away to the military looking for warm fuzzies but anything’s possible. I really don’t remember much about the guy. He was one of those overenthusiastic meatheads. Said he would kill anyone who got in his way but never fired his weapon. Not that that’s a loss, most cops would love to never use fatal force, but Jameson was the type a guy who thought the gun and the badge made him a badass,” Lew said.
“And you have no idea where he is now?”
“He wasn’t exactly one for the reunions. Haney didn’t keep up with him, so no idea.”
“Worth a look, isn’t it?”
“Considering how little we have by way of leads, sure. Go see Lena first, make sure we won’t be stepping on any toes,” Lew said.
Runner gulped. “Shouldn’t you go see her?”
“You have to learn how to to talk to the Chief of Police, Will, now’s a good a time as any to start.”
“Okay,” Runner said with the conviction of a man about to go to the gallows.
Lew shook his head and turned back to his laptop. He had three e-mails. One from Leyden, telling him his evidence was back and that he needed to come see the results in person. One from Sledge telling him to go see Leyden ASAP, and after, if he could please bring Sledge some painkillers. And another one from Shelton, asking him to stop by for a visit and that it wouldn’t kill him to go see Leyden.
Lew didn’t know what was going on, but he guessed he needed to go to the lab.
“Don’t go see Leyden,” Leckie said. He collapsed in Runner’s chair, looking like he had run all the way to the precinct.
“Nice to see you too, Bob,” Lew said. He reached into his desk and pulled out a water bottle, dropping it in front of Leckie. “But I kind of have to go. If it’s something Leyden’s not comfortable e-mailing about, it needs to be seen in person.”
“Bad idea to go down there, Juergens,” Leckie said.
“Bob, you’re telling me not to go down there. Sledge is telling me I have to and Shelton says he doesn’t think he sees me dying today so what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Bob gulped down the water and shrugged. “I guess you’ve got to go then.”
“Thank you,” Lew said. He put on his jacket. “Why don’t you hang around, bother Loudmouth and De L’Eau for a bit. Vera and Stone should be back from their meeting in an hour.”
“I’ll keep your chair warm, Lew,” he said, “good luck.”
Lew gave Leckie a confused smile and shook his head. People were acting all kinds of strange today.
********
The sky was dark by the time he got to the lab, a storm coming in or something worse. Lew got out of his car and looked around. It was quiet with an unnatural absence of sound. He reached into his coat, felt his fingertips brush his phone and sent out the distress code. Lew knew what it felt like to walk into a fight, he was achingly familiar with the concept, and nothing about this was good.
“Sound and weather manipulation, that’s cute,” Lew called out, “I just hope you weren’t stupid enough to mess with anyone inside that building.”
“Oh, like him,” a man’s voice yelled out.
Leyden came scrambling out the door way. His face was busted up, but he looked more pissed off than seriously hurt.
“You beat up Leyden? Hell, most people would consider that a civil service,” Lew said. Lew dropped his phone into Leyden’s hands and shoved him behind the car. “Why don’t you come out so I can congratulate you.”
“And what makes you think I’d find that as something worthy,” the man said. He stepped out of the building, guns out.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Lew said as he came face-to-face with Jameson.
“Juergens, I really think you would’ve figured it out before now,” he said.
“Honestly, Jameson, you weren’t even on my radar. I hadn’t thought about you in years, but hell, Shelton was right. You are bathed in Stetson,” Lew said.
“Didn’t they teach you not to antagonize an assailant?” Jameson asked. “Oh, that’s right, you never went to the Academy.”
“Nah, Jameson, in my day we believed experience was the best teacher, not schoolbooks. It helped weed out all the assholes who were only in it for bragging rights and badge bunnies.”
“And look where that got you,” Jameson said, “you’re still just a detective.”
“We can’t all be roaches on the bottom rung of the government ladder,” Lew said.
Jameson laughed before aiming his gun and shooting Lew in the kneecap.
Lew’s instincts let him lean on the car rather than crumple on to the ground. It always was a shock to the system, and a bullet in the kneecap was still a bullet in the kneecap, accelerated healing rate or not.
The only problem was the cells weren’t going through their sickly sweet feeling of reknitting and reforming.
“Not such a big man now, are you? You like our new experiment? We found a way to coat the bullets to work against freaks like you.”
“You abducted a girl, killed two people, attacked a good number of police officers and informants all to shoot me in the kneecap? What is your fucking problem,” Lew said.
“You’re just our guinea pigs. Look at how those Franklin City Freaks can’t take care of their own population. You think you’re really a big concern for us?”
“You tell me, Jameson, you’re the one going around killing in the name of what? Government? Science? Progress? Does your mind not understand how fucked up that is or are you really just that stupid?”
“It’s for the greater good. For the protection of my people,” Jameson said.
“Our people,” Lew corrected, “last time I checked we’re all still humans here.”
“You’re not human,” Jameson said. He fired off another round, this one going through Lew’s shoulder.
Lew didn’t bother to stop the cursing that spilled out. He didn’t want to give Jameson the satisfaction to hear it, but hell, it made Lew feel better. Of course, that could also be the fact that he could hear Runner approaching and that his knee cap was finally knitting itself together.
“I didn’t think they let nut-jobs like you out among the general population. You’ve got to tell me that’s just a bit more of a concern,” Lew said.
Jameson laughed and lifted his gun one more time. He crumpled to the ground before he could make the final shot.
Lew looked around, trying to find who pulled the trigger. Runner was behind the car with Leyden, so it couldn’t have been him.
Lena approached from inside the lab, a man in a Marine uniform beside her.
“Nice shot, Lena,” he called out.
“I told you I had it covered,” she said. She walked over to him. “You okay, Lew?”
“Already healing. What about Jameson?” he asked.
“They don’t let me use tasers with fatal force,” she said.
“Who’s the new guy?”
“My contact from Washington.”
“Do I get a name?”
“No,” Lena said, “he’s here to finish up the job.”
Lew snorted. “It’s not already finished.”
Lena shook her head. “Lew, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. If you think we do mind fucks on our new recruits, you have no idea what those other places do.”
Lew shook his head. He thankfully took the offer of Lena’s free shoulder. “Everything’s going to disappear, isn’t it? Like none of this ever happened. Like it was all a bad dream.”
“You know how it goes,” Lena said.
“What about Stella?”
“Her and her family were paid a large sum of money. Her information concerning Doc Grant and the Banika Syndicate was very valuable to the DEA.”
“And Phillips?” Lew asked.
“He’s going back down to Alabama for a bit.”
“This is fucked up, Lena,” Lew said.
“I know,” Lena agreed.
An ambulance came roaring into the parking lot along with a clean-up crew.
“Your ride is here,” Lena said, “Conley, stop eavesdropping with Leyden and get your asses over here.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said.
Lena patted Lew on the back and transferred him over to Runner’s free shoulder.
“Say hi to Shelton for me, boys,” she said, “I’ve got to go handle this.”
Lew turned to Runner. “Nice of you to show up. Any slower there, Grandma, and I might be dead,” he said.
“Christ, Lew, stop talking,” Leyden said. “I have a fucking headache the size of Manhattan and you won’t shut up.”
Lew never laughed so hard getting into an ambulance.
********
It was two weeks after the incident and they were still cleaning up the mess. It was hard as hell to bury something and erase all knowledge of its existence in the digital age. And Lew was still pissed off about it all.
“What’s the fucking point,” Lew said, slamming down a stack of paperwork. “We got Jameson but you can’t tell me there’s not a whole crew backing him. God knows how many people are behind this and now we’re shut down by the Alphabet Organizations because one of their own was a friggin’ psycho.”
“But we got Hamm’s killer, Lew. We’ve got the guy who killed Oswalt, kidnapped Karamanlis and tried to gut Shelton. That matters to their families,” Stone said.
“It just feels like some bullshit test. From Jones, to Burgin, to Speirs, it fears like they’re laughing at us, judging us. And Speirs knew where Stella was all along. And she’s not talking to us. What the hell, Stone?”
Stone patted Lew on the shoulder. “You’ve been playing this game longer than any of us here. Even Lena hasn’t spent as much time in the trenches as you. It’s hard not to take this one personally. And yeah, this whole thing is reeking with so much bullshit I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if they were testing Sledge’s capacity to stay sane or our ability to do our jobs or what. But Lew, you of all people know how hard it is to go against a shadow organization with the full backing of the government.”
Lew snorted at that. “You’re right,” he agreed, “so, what the hell are you doing here on your day off? I thought Mac was dragging you down south for some antiquing or some bullshit.”
Stone gripped the back of his own neck, his tell that he was delivering bad news.
“What is it?” Lew asked.
“You’re being reassigned,” Stone said.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Lew asked.
Stone shook his head. “Look, after the whole blow up it’s been decided by city hall that the whole precinct needs to be restructured and expanded.”
“So we’re being punished.”
“You’re being promoted,” Stone said, “it was supposed to happen two years ago but Corrigan buried it before it could go through. Something about you and Leckie rendering his car ineffective.”
“We wanted to see if the sugar in the gas tank thing was true.”
“Why didn’t you just ask one of the mechanics?”
“I’m all about the practical application. Is Runner coming?”
“No.”
“Can I refuse the promotion?”
“Yeah, if you want to be a detective in the archival unit.”
“So, no choice then.”
“It might be good for you to finally stand on your own, Juergens. And I don’t think Conley would applaud you putting your career on hold while you wait for him to catch up. Look, as stupid as you are--”
“Thanks, Vin,”
“-You are damn good at doing your job. It might annoy the hell out of me how you somehow manage to always get your work done, but you know what you’re doing. You know how to use your instincts and you have a scary high case solve rate for someone who is not a Reader.”
“When’s my last day?” Lew asked.
“Next Friday,” Stone said.
“Damn, they don’t waste time.”
“Lena was fighting it, but she lost this one.”
“Thanks for telling me, Vin.”
Stone patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not like we’re never going to see you again.”
“You sure about that?”
“I have a feeling,” Stone said before leaving.
Lew tried not to get pissed off but it really wasn’t working. This was his home, damn it, and he was being evicted.
“So, you’re leaving us for the big office,” Runner said, taking his seat.
“Stone made it pretty clear I didn’t have a choice.”
“Hey, the higher-ups need a guy like you in their pay grade. You can shake things up from the inside.”
“Nice to know you still think a lot of me.”
Runner shrugged. “Well, since you’ve been around since they laid the cornerstone of this city--”
“Funny, really, classic.”
Runner went quiet for a minute and fiddled with everything on his desk.
“Damn, Sasquatch,” Runner said, “you’re going to make me cry.”
Lew laughed. “Like you didn’t know Stone was setting you up to work with Gibson from the start.”
“I was just waiting for you to catch up,” Runner said.
“Just too fast for an old man like me,” Lew said.
“So, what do we do now?” Runner asked.
Lew handed one of the paper files to Runner and kicked the shredder over to his side of the desk.
“We keep doing our job, just like always.”