First We Take Manhattan (2 page)

"Mind your heat sink," Dave reminds Jed again.

A quick glance at his monitors shows Gabe that Dave and Jed are a few feet behind him. He makes the turn onto one of the busier boulevards in Sector Twelve. Startled pedestrians scramble out of the way. Cruisers and cycles pull over, letting Gabe fly by without incident. It doesn't take long to reach the scene of the crime, but they're evidently too late.

Gabe knows Winston's Jewelers. He'd come here once to help pick out a watch for Dave's boyfriend, Tim. It's a small, ritzy place; it sells the kind of merchandise that says things like "serious," "moving in together," and "I hope this makes up for a year of neglect." It isn't Gabe's style, and he's never desired an accessory so extravagant. At the same time, he's always wanted someone willing to buy him one, if that makes any sense.

No one will be buying anything today, though. Winston's Jewelers has been gutted, its shelves stripped and registers emptied. Gabe brings Archangel to a stop in front of a conspicuous mech-sized hole in the building. Thankfully, the business office above Winston's appears to be closed. Otherwise, anyone inside could have been seriously injured when the mech broke down the wall.

"My God," he breathes, too quietly to be heard on the comms.

"Holy shit," Dave says once Stonewall lands. "How did they do this so fast?"

Jed lands last. Gabe makes a point to tell him he flew like a pro later. "Where did they
get
mechs? Only law enforcement and the military are supposed to have access."

"Exactly," Gabe says, dumbfounded. He switches his systems to standby and unbuckles his harness. "Cover me."

Just because there's a new door for mechs doesn't mean they should damage the building further. Gabe's canopy unlocks with a hiss. It swings back, leaving him exposed and free to climb out. He hops down easily thanks to years of practice. He lands in the fallen debris, wearing nothing but his black reinforced hardsuit. Gabe runs a hand through his cropped brown hair and unholsters his pistol.

There's no sign of any rogue mechs still on the premises, but Gabe proceeds with caution. Even with Jed and Dave training a pair of Gatling and stun guns on the entrance, they've amassed a fair share of gawkers. Gabe waves them away before touching his earpiece.

"I'm going in," he says once the connection is established.

"Careful,"
Dave replies.
"We're on your six."

Gabe inches forward, boots crunching rock and concrete dust. He hugs the wall, pistol ready. Inside, there's only silence. Gabe counts to three, and then he rounds the corner.

The store is empty. Half of the lights are no longer working, but the gigantic hole is providing more than enough daylight. The shop looks like a bomb went off. Gabe walks further in, crushing broken display case glass under his feet.

"NYPD," he calls to the room in general. He glances around, watching for signs of movement.

"Don't shoot!" a man shouts from behind the counter.

"Stand up," Gabe says. "Slowly, with your hands in the air."

When the man does as he's asked, Gabe recognizes Mr. Winston himself. The man's dark skin is stained gray with dust and he looks spooked. "You're the police, right?" he asks, British accent tinged with nervousness.

Gabe nods. "Relax, sir. I've got to ask you some questions." He looks around the store. "Is anyone else here?"

Winston shakes his head. "I'm the only one working at this hour. They just, they came right through the wall! In broad daylight!"

"Who came right through the wall?" Gabe asks, coming closer.

"The mechs. I've never—they said only cops and army folk used those damn things. Where did a two-bit burglar get something like that?" Now that he's safe, fear is rapidly giving way to anger.

Gabe is angry, too. Mech technology is highly restricted; no one but the Army and law enforcement should have access to it. Rogue mechs operated by common thugs? Someone dropped one hell of a heavy ball. Despite the rage coiling in his belly, he schools his expression into calm professionalism. "I'm not sure, sir. I'm going to try and find out." To the others he says, "It's all clear in here. One civilian, no injuries, no sign of the thieves."

"Backup's here,"
Dave replies.
"I think Detective Williams came, too. I'm pretty sure that's his cruiser."

"I'm sure he'd want to hear this," Gabe says. "Burglaries in the middle of the day, with mechs?"

Jed whistles.
"Either the bravest or stupidest crooks I've ever heard of."

"How did they get away?" Gabe asks Winston.

Winston looks aghast. "How should I know? The minute that damn robot knocked down my wall, I hit the panic button and kept my head down. He went out the same way he came in."

"Was he alone?" He hears some more glass crunching. Gabe looks over his shoulder and finds Detective Andrew Williams headed his way. Great.

"No," Winston says, voice cracking with dryness. "I heard a few guys run through the place. I know they were on foot. They were the ones who did the looting. I didn't get a good look at any of them, officer."

"No problem," Gabe says, taking a step backwards. "They were probably wearing masks, anyway." He wants to ask what the mechs looked like, but from the way Winston glances over his shoulder, Gabe can tell he has company. "You did a good job staying out of sight. Who knows what they would have done to you?"

"Officer Dumas, is it?"

Gabe stifles a sigh and turns around. "Yes, Detective." Without preamble, Detective Williams pokes his arm and lures him away from Winston. Gabe tosses a look back at Winston, who is now answering questions from another police officer.

"You were the first responder, Dumas?" Williams asks once they're far enough away. He's an older fellow, with salt-and-pepper hair and hard lines etched in his face.

Gabe straightens and gives Williams his full attention. "Yes, sir. Our dispatcher relayed the message, and we got here as fast as we could. It was already over by the time we arrived. No sign of the perps."

Williams grunts in response, tapping some information into his tablet. "No injuries, no one missing?"

"No, sir. The owner just confirmed he was the only one in the place." Gabe looks back at Winston, talking animatedly with the other officer. One of Williams's personal team, Gabe realizes. Even better.

"Thank you, Dumas. Good work. Head back to the station; my team can take it from here."

Of course they can,
he thinks, bitterly. Out loud, he only says, "Understood, Detective."

Gabe holsters his pistol and marches back to Archangel. Williams is a good man and a good cop—but he's notorious for being territorial. If a case even remotely falls under his department's jurisdiction, he has to have it. This isn't the first time Gabe and Dave have been shouldered out of the way.

Dave and Jed are waiting for him, leaning against Stonewall's leg. The scene has attracted more onlookers. Gabe also notes that more than half of Williams's team is on-site. By Gabe's estimation, that is way too many cops to be called for one robbery, however audacious it may have been. The officers mostly ignore Gabe while he walks back to Stonewall.

Jed looks good in his new black hardsuit. His red hair is growing out from the military buzz, and his hard muscles fill out the armor nicely. Rookie or no, he looks like he belongs in a mech. Dave always looks good, brown-skinned and brown eyes, and freshly shaven. He keeps his hair almost as short as a Marine's—spends nearly as much time at the gym as they do, too.

"Williams?" Dave asks when Gabe reaches them.

"Williams," Gabe confirms with a grimace. "Gentlemen, consider us benched."

"Damn it." Dave kicks Stonewall with his heel. "Well, Private, so much for day one."

Jed quirks an eyebrow at them. "I'm guessing there's a story here, too."

"Yeah." Gabe jerks his thumb at the gathering crowd. "But this is neither the time nor the place."

"Back to the station, boys," Dave says, turning to climb up Stonewall. "This party just got dull."

*~*~*

After they clock out, Gabe and Dave invite Jed to their local watering hole. They end up going to Cloud Ten, a place not too far from Gabe's apartment. Like most places in Sector Twelve, Cloud Ten gets packed around the nine o'clock mark—too many lights, too much noise. It also makes the best Rusty Nails and keeps the mouthiest staff. Jed honors his offer of buying the first round.

"Bourbon." Dave whistles appreciatively, swirling the liquor in his tumbler. "The finest gift after a rough day."

"Yeah," Jed scoffs. "Rough." He downs his own glass in one gulp. The tumbler hits the table with a barely audible thump. "So, you guys gonna tell me what the deal is with Williams?"

"Not much to tell," Gabe says, playing with his glass. "Great cop, not a team player." He pauses with a frown. That wasn't quite right. "Rather, you're only in luck if you work for him."

Dave nods, rolling his eyes with overly dramatic flair. "He'll fight tooth and nail if he thinks his department needs something. But don't you dare step into one of his investigations. Only his unit does the job right, didn't you know?"

Jed scratches his nose. "I guess there's one in every workplace. Why did he hijack our robbery, though? I don't get it."

"Me neither." Dave leans forward, motioning for them to do the same. "But the buzz around the gym this evening was that it wasn't the first unusual robbery today." He nods, looking pleased at their shocked expressions. "Yeah. It's not like it's a secret, but the chief didn't have a meeting about it either. Something must be going down."

Gabe rubs at his eyes. "Diamondbacks?" Staging ostentatious robberies in broad daylight wasn't their style, not by a long shot, but smaller gangs tended to steer clear of Diamondback turf.

"I don't know," Dave says. "I don't have the slightest clue. But I do know that there were at least five random robberies today. Jewelry stores, banks, and a department warehouse. None of the perps hung around long enough to be identified or described. Except for the mechs, of course."

"Right," Gabe says. "The phantom mech. How did no one see this thing make a getaway? That's what I want to know."

"You were great, though, Private," Dave says, reaching over to clap Jed on the shoulder. "Solid first day on the beat."

"Thanks." Jed gives them a small smile, and then pushes himself up from the table. "I'll get us some refills."

Gabe watches him go, muscles sharply defined in his form-fitting black shirt. The jeans are doing wonders for his shapely rear, too. "Isabel is a lucky woman."

Dave follows his gaze. "Gabriel," he says, obviously trying not to laugh, "are you lusting after the greenhorn?"

"Nah." Gabe knocks back the rest of his drink. "Just admiring. He's a little young for me, anyway. Hey," he fixes Dave with a serious expression, "we didn't get a chance to talk all day. What's going on with you and Tim?"

Dave's face closes up. "Nothing. You know, couple stuff." He picks at a dent in the table with one short fingernail.

Gabe regrets asking. "Sorry, I didn't mean—anyway, you know I'm here, right? If you want to talk or, or whatever." He ducks his head, electing to stare at the dregs of his glass.

Jed picks that moment to return, sporting the legendary Rusty Nail drinks. "Let's get a buzz on for the weekend, boys."

"It's not shore leave, Private," Dave says, but he accepts the glass with a grin. "You get next weekend off, too."

"Hallelujah," Jed says and downs his whiskey. He makes a face and promptly shakes it off. "Damn!"

"What did we tell you?" Gabe winks. "Get Dave a couple more of those, and he'll be pleased to tell you how Stonewall got its name."

Four Rusty Nails later, Dave tells the most erratic version of the Stonewall Arrest ever heard. Gabe knows this because he's heard every single one. He finds himself snickering under his breath, holding his empty glass with both hands because he doesn't trust himself not to drop it.

"And then," Dave is saying, leaning over to stare at Jed with wide, glassy brown eyes. "And then, you would not believe what happened."

Jed stares back with rapt attention. "… They came out of the barn?"

"They came out of the barn!" Dave crows, slapping the table. "These two perps, suffocating in ski masks. I shit you not, ski masks on the hottest day of the year. They come stumbling out, and Gabe—" he leans against Jed and points, "Gabe is, what, twenty-three at this point? He's young, real by-the-book, so he tries yelling at them to freeze."

"They told me to fuck off, because it was bloody hot," Gabe says. A waitress drops off their latest round and Gabe forks over the cash. He slides the glasses carefully across the table, not trusting his hand-eye coordination.

Dave continues, "So Gabe snarks back, 'freeze means stop!' and sounds so, so frustrated. We'd been chasing these idiots all day. But they don't stop; they try to make a run for it. I'm closest, but my stun gun malfunctioned. I can't shoot the perps with the Gatling; they're just stupid petty crooks, right? So I hit the jets, fly right over their heads, and land
way too close
." He slaps the table again. "Bam! They ran right into my mech's leg. Stunned 'em long enough for Gabe to surround them." He sits up straight and hefts his glass. "And thus Stonewall was born."

Jed salutes him and downs his drink. Gabe knew he was drunk, but after he knocks back this one, the world starts to spin. He can only imagine what it will be like when he stands up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," he says. His red Henley is starting to feel stuffy.

"Soon," Dave says, leaning across the table to grab Gabe's sleeve. "I wanna see if this rookie can match me, glass for glass." He turns back to Jed. "Come on, Private. Show me how they do things in the army."

*~*~*

Two hours later, Gabe hails two cabs. He buckles Jed into one and rattles off Jed's address to the driver. He shares the other cab with Dave, manhandling his partner of five years into the backseat with practiced ease.

"He's not gonna be sick, is he?" the cabbie asks uncertainly.

"Never," Gabe says, climbing in next to him. "He doesn't like to waste money." Dave moans in response, sinking against Gabe's shoulder while Gabe gives the cabbie Dave's address.