-1-
I wait in Alex’s room for the private party to end, nursing a beer
and reading through the Federation media streams. Most of it was bullshit. Every story painted the Sprawl as becoming some sort of modern
utopia at the Federation's adoring hands.
I'm reading about some fully automated clinic when my system glitches, the words scramble and the article closes itself when I get disconnected from the net.
Fuck, I'd been working too hard.
Alex slides back into the room and immediately goes to shower. When he steps back out I note how heavy and red his eyes are. I hadn't noticed them before because he’d been wearing a
blindfold.
He sidesteps past me and opens the chest of drawers in the corner of the room. He pulls out a heavy black notebook and fountain pen with the RLA insignia on it.
“I thought that shit was props.” His room was done up like an RLA officer's quarters to heighten the taboo power fantasy.
“It is. But it still works,” he says coolly and opens the black paper notebook to a handwritten list.
He sits on the edge of his bed and I feel like I have to ask permission before I sit next to him. Which pisses me off . I roll the desk chair closer to him so I can see the notebook.
“I made this list last night after—after I left your garage.”
More like after he ended things with me.
“You can write by hand ?” I say , admiring his perfect calligraphy.
“I told you I went to a very strict religious school." His tone is a little biting. “They didn’t allow technology. I wasn't even supposed to own a syndicate at home.”
“Damn. Arkham was barbaric as hell but not like that.”
“These are the people who I think could have killed Linz.” He marks something out on the list and then gives me the notebook.
I look down at the list
Suspects
- An angry Virtue client
- A
jealous Virtue escort
- Random serial killer
- cartel related revenge murder
- An ex-boyfriend
The last item on the list is unreadable and has a thick line through it.
“What is this last thing you just blacked out ?”
He shifts a piece of damp hair behind his ear and I use my thumb to wipe away the still wet pen ink.
-Luce
I don’t like the feeling I get seeing my name on his list of possible killers. That he thought I was capable of killing some random girl, framing his sister and lying to his face about it.
“Seriously ?”
“I don’t know....I remember Isla told me she saw you at Virtue that night. She was offended you didn’t speak to her. And I know you know how to kill people.”
“I didn’t do it,” I snap.
He shifts uncomfortably and then his mouth sets into that determined line. “It’s just…Isla also mentioned it was weird you were wearing a tie that night--”
“I was ? Wait---you told her about our tie thing ?” I liked binding him with a tie. I wore one to the club whenever I wanted us to do that.
“No,” he says quickly. “She didn’t realize you were wearing it for…that reason. She just notices people’s clothing. You were in Virtue, wearing a tie but…you never came to see me that night. Why? Where were you ?”
I’m silent because I can’t fucking remember where I went that night. But I don’t have to. My memory is shit because of the cybernetics so I have a software that indexes small impressions and snapshots of my days. I flip back to that night.
I see exactly where I was at the time of the murder.
“Something came up,” I tell him. “I was at Virtue that night but I wasn’t there when it happened--”
“Where did you go--”
“I told you I didn’t do it.” I keep my tone forceful so he’ll drop it. “Look we can figure this thing out but I need you to trust me. I’m the best ally you’ve got.”
He still looks suspicious but thankfully he lets it go.
“Okay.”
“I can run a face matching algorithm of who was there that night. We can create our own list of the escorts and clients who were on the floor between the time Isla left and the time Linz's body was discovered. Charlotte said she'd help and she might give me some info but I doubt even she’ll let me look at the client list--”
“I’ll get Linz's client lists,” Alex volunteers.
“It’ll be faster if I hack it or steal one of Charlotte’s tablets--”
“You can’t--”
“--Watch me--”
“You literally can't. Jean keeps client lists in analog files in his suite. I can get access and make a copy…I ….I think you should look for clues that aren’t in the club.”
I scoff. “Clues ? This isn’t one of your arcade games--”
“I know that,” he snaps. “I noticed there wasn’t a funeral announcement for Linz so maybe you can still go look at her body. You know about…that sort of thing. Maybe you can find something in how she was killed.”
It was actually a good idea.
“Are you giving me that job because you’re still scared of Alan ?”
“I’m not scared of him,” he says unconvincingly. “Does Alan Gray have her body ?”
“Who the hell else would ?”
“…Her family.”
“You really don’t know how this works do you ?,” I say, knowing I sound like a condescending jackass.
***
-2-
Haley
The guard adjusts the position of his machine gun as Haley approaches the doors
of Jean Dory’s master suite at Virtue. There had been a rise in Control
clients who looking for revenge after having their private activities used as blackmail by Jean. He'd hired the guard
as a precaution.
The broad chested guard glares down at him menacingly. “Mr. Dory is with a visitor.”
“Oh. H-he said I could come now…I’ll wait.”
Normally Haley would have left, the armed guard made him nervous. He didn’t like men with guns, but he had to get into Jean Dory’s suite tonight to get a copy of the client list. The sooner they find another suspect, the sooner Isla would get out of confinement.
The guard goes back to staring numbly into the distance and Haley follows the guard’s gaze down the corridor of Virtue suites—his view was right in the eye line of Linz Sharpe’s former suite.
“Where you here the night…it happened ?,” Haley asks absently.
The guard looks over at him as if debating whether or not to answer.
Then he nods.
Haley knows this game well, how to play on the pride of men who thought they had power.
“I would have been sick if I were there. What did you do ?”
The guard doesn’t hesitate with his response. “Well...if you look at Mr. Dory's schedule it says he went out for ice cream but really he had a meeting with his drug suppliers around the block. We were on our way back when I got a call that a client found a body. We rushed back and I went up there…It was fucking brutal. Big pile of blood--”
“Really?”
“Yep,” he says. “Fuck…you know that Linz girl came by to see Mr. Dory before her shift started. I held the door for her when she came out. She thanked me and then went to her room…I might have been the last person to see her before the killer.”
“When was that ?”
“A little before 7. Her feelings were all hurt from some blow up she’d had with Stasia. Those two are always catfighting--”
The suite door suddenly swings open and Jean Dory, wearing only a of pair knee length dark blue tights that left nothing to the imagination, leans languidly against the door frame as a shell shocked looking older man in a suit hurriedly side steps out of Jean’s suite.
“Let’s do this again, love. And next time I’ll bring you everything you need!” Jean calls after the horrified looking man.
The man doesn’t turn to look back at Jean, he startles when he sees Haley and then quickly proceeds down the hall and to the stairs.
“Ne-e-e-ext ?,” Jean sing songs, looking down at Haley.
Tonight Jean is barefaced, his thinning hair sticks up and heavy bags sit under his eyes. His body is thin and wiry, the sickly veins in his arms and concave chest protruding more than usual. Haley almost feels bad about what he’ll have to do to get the client list from Jean.
“Who was that man ?,” Haley asks as he follows Jean into the suite.
He could tell by Jean’s physical appearance that the man wasn’t a client. Jean had an exclusive client list and he never let them visit him unless he had every aspect of his physical appearance groomed to perfection.
“That tightly wound motherfucker is a G-man,” Jean scoffs. “The Federation wants to regulate 'adult service providers' to death.”
He says the word adult service providers with a healthy disdain. “All their fucking regulations with bullshit fees and penalties--”
“I can come back later--”
“No, no, no.” Jean throws himself on to an avalanche of throw pillows on the bed. He picks up one of his paperback erotic novels. “All of that is Charlotte’s problem. I told them to talk to her. They can’t do anything with me since I don’t have a syndicate. Now, what is going on with you ? Your eyes are red, we need to fix that--”
“I know...I just haven’t been sleeping--”
“Not sleeping ?,” Jean grins sitting up on his elbows. “I have a fun little pill for that and I’m willing to share.”
Jean pats the section of throw pillows in the bed next to him and Haley awkwardly lifts himself into the bed. When he sits down Jean slides closer, kissing both his cheeks and then his lips. He already smells like alcohol. This close to Jean’s bare chest Haley can see the small flesh colored catheter sticking out of Jane's clavicle. He used it to administer drugs directly to his system.
“Fuck. Look at you. So pretty. And so fucking young,” Jean pouts digging his nails into Haley’s face. ”How do you look this fucking young ? I want to peel this skin right off your body and wear it like a fucking coat. What do you say ? Would you let me do that?”
Jean doesn’t actually want an answer and Haley knows not to give him one. He just waits uneasily for Jean’s exploration of his skin to stop.
He’d been put under the lasers and knife more than once at Jean’s request. The only reason he stayed in Jean’s good graces after The Federation Day incident was because he’d agreed to let Alan Gray take some of his blood and DNA for some half-baked eternal youth experiment Jean wanted to try.
He wasn’t sure of Jean’s exact age, his boss had been content on begrudgingly turning 40 multiple times. Haley would never call Jean unattractive. The man was handsome and charming to a fault, but some his physical appearance had succumb to his hard way of living.
“Okay,” Jean said removing his hands from Haley but not bothering to hide the erection made even more noticeable by the thin tights. “To what do I owe this visit ?”
“I haven’t been feeling well and I thought I might have something,” Haley lies. He’d just needed a reason to get into the room.
The Virtue hosts had a full time medical team to give check ups and cure the occasional food poisoning. The Control hosts had Alan Gray--who only sometimes came by and couldn’t write legal prescriptions because he’d gotten his fake medical license revoked last year.
Jean sighs and reaches into his nightstand for a needle. He removes the small device from it’s plastic packaging, the short sharp needle attached to a digital display. Haley holds out his right arm and Jean smiles as he presses the button on the top of the needle that misted Haley's arm with disinfectant.
“Did you know some people experience orgasm by having their skin pierced by needles ?,” Jean smiles.
Haley decides not to respond.
Jean sticks the needle into Haley’s outstretched arm.
The screen on the needle beeps within minutes and as Jean scrolls through the readings Haley casually takes his hair down.
“It says you're clean. Make sure after each client you--,” Jean starts and then frowns.
“Did you cut off a piece of
your hair ?”
“It got caught in something, I just evened it out,” he lies. He’d cut the small piece off only 10 minutes ago.
“It looks like shit, you do know your hair is half the reason I hired you--”
“I--"
“No, I’m fixing it.”
“It’s late I need to eat dinner--”
“--Fuck that. I can order dinner in--”
“I had this wine I was going to drink with it…to help me sleep tonight.”
“What is dinner without wine? I’ll have some brought up. No more arguing.”
Haley doesn’t argue. He had Jean where he needed him.
Two hours later Jean had colored his hair and was putting the finishing touches on two thick french braids in the back of his head.
And he was
very drunk.
Haley had thought he’d have to trick Jean into overindulging in the
wine but the man had finished two bottles on his own. He wasn’t sure how Jean
was still sitting up, let alone braiding hair.
He flinches as Jean pulls on one of the plaits.
“So, pretty. Look at how good I am at this,” Jean slurs. “Ahhhh, I should have fucked you when I had the chance. I’ve made you 10 times more fuckable than when I first met you and you just had to run to fucking Luce fucking Grace of all people. Ughhhh.”
Jean makes a disgusted noise and tosses a hair tie at the wall.
“Luce and I are taking a break,” Haley admit softly, knowing Jean won’t remember any of this.
“Aw,” Jean sighs lying back in the bed. He buries his hand in the waist of his tights. “Because of the whole Isla thing ?”
“Yes.”
“Mm. Mm. Mm. Yes, Min-Min told me they were arresting Isla. I always forget she’s your sister. Well…Personally, I don’t think Isla did it,” Jean sighs drunkenly. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this but....that Linz was a little bitch. I should have never hired her. That girl was in over her head. Probably just said no to the wrong client or was rude. She was young too... was a classmate of Char-Char’s…oh ! Have you met my baby girl ?”
“Linz went Arkham with Charlotte ?....Why was she working here ?”
Jean closes his eyes, rolling his head around in the pillows. He’d never seen his boss this inebriated and he was beginning to feel guilty.
“I ‘unno,” he mumbles his eyes opening.
Jeans eyes close again and Haley quickly leans over him.
“Jean. Wait. Where are the client lists ?”
“In the file cabinet…the code is 4543. Don't tell anyone.”
---
-3-
Luce
This place always gave me the creeps.
Alan had illegal black clinics all over the
Sprawl, Mojave and even one in Ft. Perch. This one was my least favorite, it was small and
crammed in a old warehouse near the Mojave Blade Company headquarters.
There’s a young guy moaning on a metal slab as a drone drills away at some cybernetic work going on in his back. Unsanctioned cybernetic enhancements had always been illegal but The Federation was cracking down more on them.
Alan Gray, despite being a complete fuckup imposter Frankenstien son of a bitch, was actually pretty good at body modifications and plastic surgery to cover up any illegal work.
The truth is he’s more than good.
He’d mostly fixed up Alex’s hand that had gotten fucked up at Ft. Pride and removed the scarring around his infected tattoos. He'd probably done a lot more to him, Jean loved to turn his escorts into his client's fantasy fuck toy.
"You're walking weird," Alan says the second he sees me.
"Shut up--"
"No, I'm serious," he adds quickly. "Is your leg acting up ?"
"My systems...my memories have been acting a little glitchy," I admit. "I think I need to have my system re-calibrated. It's been a few years--"
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get parts now that the Federation is regulating cybor--"
"I don't need a lectu--"
"I'm not trying to," he says. "I can work my contacts but you can't keep smoking and drinking. It doesn't help--"
"Yeah, I get it. For now just show me the fucking body,"
“I still don’t see why Minnow wants you to see the body.” Alan grumbles. “She’s dead. It’s not like she’s going to walk out of here.”
“Do you want to question Minnow ?,” I bluff.
Minnow didn’t know I was here but I knew Alan was to pussy whipped to question orders from her.
Alan walks me to the back of the clinic and into the cold storage area. He presses a combination on his syndicate and section of the wall shifts to allow a silver slab with a body on it to roll out.
He pulls back the blanket and I start to feel jumpy. I’d seen lots of fresh wounds and recently dead bodies but never anything like this. Linz died a week ago. Her corpse was covered in ugly, jagged cuts—it was gruesome and violent. I didn’t know Linz that well but it shouldn’t have ended like this.
Not for a girl like her.
“Those cuts look brutal.”
“Yeah,” Alan huffs. “I think they were done with a Casablanca.”
“What the fuck is that ?”
“Mojave Blade Company’s signature steak knife,” Alan says like I’m an idiot. “You should really know about the bullshit front company signing our paychecks.”
“Whatever.”
“Spoken like someone who hasn’t been taken in for questioning by the Federation before.”
“Which knife wound do you think was first ?,” I ask.
“Why ?”
“What ? You don’t know ?”
“No. I don’t stare at corpses all day. I’m just storing her. The wounds aren’t even cleaned.”
He looks down at the body, examining her wounds.
Alan’s face suddenly goes rigid.
He picks up a wipe from a small table and starts wiping at one of the cuts on her shoulder.
“That’s interesting,” he says under his breath.
He adjusts something in one of the lenses he wore in his eyes to magnify his vision. He cleans another wound.
"The fuck...” Alan whispers.
The grunts from the boy getting operated on in the other room turn into screams.
“I told that kid to wait until he could afford the good anesthetic--”
“Focus. Tell me about the body.”
“These knife wounds,” Alan frowns. “They’re post mortem...She was already dead when she was stabbed.”
I could almost see Alex’s shit eating grin. I’d found an actual fucking clue.
“What killed her if it wasn't the knife ?,”
“How the hell should I know ? Do you think I can wake her up and ask her ?”
“Isn’t that what you did to Sage ?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, she was never dead. The preservation li--”
“Not important. How long will it take you to figure out what killed her ?”
“I’d have to do a full examination which I don’t have time for. I’ve got a full schedu--”
“Just talk me through how to do it then--”
“It would take twice as long. I could train a goldfish to do an autopsy before I could train you.”
“Fine. Cut her stomach open then.”
“Why ?”
“Just do it. I want to see something.”
“You’ll regret this.”
Alan takes a small laser knife out of his coat pocket and wipes it off on his shirt. He makes a precise cut on her stomach area. The skin splits and he pulls it back to reveal her stomach. He slashes it open and the smell is vile. He opens it up with his hands and all I see is a mess of what looks like brown sludge.
“Damn,” I say breathing through my nose and trying not so pass out. “Why is it all decomposed ?”
“It’s not,” Alan says getting close to the body and sniffing. “I think it’s chocolate.”
“Not steak ?”
“Does it look like fucking steak?”
“So, where’d the steak knife she was stabbed with come from ?”
Alan pushes the body back into the wall and turns to me with a little too much joy in his expression. “I need a pair of fresh human eyes. With the muscles attached. I’m working on a personal experiment.”
“Do I look like your fucking errand boy ?”
“No, but I know the last thing Minnow cares about is one of Jean’s dead escorts. I’ll look for the cause of death but I’m not working for free. It's not a big ask. Next time you have to rough someone up just take an eye.”
Everybody has a fucking price.I head for the door.
“Fuck you, Alan.”
"They don’t have to be from the same person or anything,” he calls as I walk out.