Slab City Blues - The Collected Stories: All Five Stories in One Volume (2 page)

“Black Lotus got chilled in Spliceville this morning,” I continued. “Killer displayed signs of pronounced combat expertise. Thought you could give us some pointers.”

He shrugged. “Fewer Shurikens taking up good air the better.”

I held out my smart. The moment stretched. He sighed smoke and took it, called up Ricci’s shots of the body.

“No other wounds?”

“No.”

“Make on the weapon?”

“Not yet.”

He grunted and handed it back. “Saw something similar during the war, but only once. It was in the early days, we had this Splice in our cell. This was when we were trying to target the Downside security chiefs. The Splice, he could rip them apart with his hands… well, claws. Handy because we didn’t have enough weapons to go around. Looked like this Black Lotus of yours when he was done. Not as neat, but similar.”

“What happened to him?”

“Got scragged in the first UNOIF counter-offensive. Saw it happen. Pity, I liked him.”

“What was he?” The smoke made me cough. “What species?”

My father-in-law smiled as I choked. “El tigrĕ.”

*

I did the stool-pigeon tour around midday. Two hours of cajolery, bribery and intimidation later and I wasn’t any nearer to whoever killed the Black Lotus. No-one knew anything, or if they did they weren’t willing to sell, which is so unlikely as to be impossible.

I was on my way to the office when Madam Choi called me.

“I have trouble Inspector.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“Can you come?”

Madam Choi ran a joint on Yang Ten, one of the more Oriental levels. She saved my life during the war and never tired of calling in the favour.

“You know I’m always there for you, Matsuke.” I sounded off before she could say anything else. Her real name was Matsuke Hiroka but, the denizens of Nippon being about as popular as small pox on the Slab, she had changed it to Choi Soo Ying. Madam Choi was the living definition of pragmatism.

*

It was called The Heavenly Garden, at least that’s what the cheap hol above the door said, but everyone called it Madam Choi’s. The name was kind of misleading anyway because it had no garden and no sentient being could call it heavenly.

Near the door two elderly Chinese were shouting at each other over a Mah Jong board. A Blissful was negotiating desperately with a pusher at a corner table and Marco, the elderly lobotomy case who did the shit work, was mopping blood from the floor. Madam Choi was waiting behind the bar with a double Glenlivet. She kept it just for me.

“Thanks.” I drank it down and slammed the glass on the bar. “So?”

Madam Choi wrapped her talons around the bottle and poured me another. “It is a delicate matter, Inspector. A matter requiring tact.”

“So why call me?”

She smiled her Dragon Lady smile. I suppose she was beautiful, pale skin, long silken hair, lips red like cherries, all that good stuff. Personally, I’d always found her about as attractive as a scorpion.

“You are my friend,” she said.

I picked up the whisky. “I’m listening.”

“There was an incident last night. A regrettable incident.”

“You mean this?” I gestured at Marco ineffectually pushing his mop around the bloody floor.

“Oh no. That was something else. This concerns one of my rats.”

“One of your fighting rats?”

“Indeed. You understand the confidence I have in you that I feel I can share such information.”

“The honour of your confidence is overwhelming.”

Despite the obvious attractions of Madam Choi’s establishment her real profits came from gambling. Dice, roulette, Mah Jong, cards and above all rat fights. Strictly illegal due to the obvious (and disturbing) intelligence displayed by Slab rats, being more physically and mentally developed than their Earthly cousins. They’re about the size of a family dog with problem solving abilities on a par with dolphins. So it seems a little inhumane to force them to fight to the death in a backroom arena. No-one knows what the rats think about it. For all we know, with their enhanced IQ, they might see it as an intellectual challenge.

“Someone doping the competitors again?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Someone has stolen my champion.”

“The Emperor?”

“Exactly.”

The Emperor was a legend in rat fighting circles. Big as a pit-bull, fox cunning and cobra fast. Victor of a thousand fights, eventually the odds on him had dropped to nothing so Madam Choi was forced to give him early retirement.

“Thought he was out to stud.”

“He was. However, recently a consortium approached me with a highly profitable offer. They had a rat truly worthy to contest with the Emperor. It was a great opportunity. We held the bout in the old ore processing works on Yang Three where the gravity is lighter. It makes for a more interesting contest. Select patrons only, drinks, Bliss and Blues on the house and ring-side betting at even money. It would have been a profitable night if that Splice had not turned up.”

“Splice?”

“Big species. Predator. Bear maybe.”

“You couldn’t tell?”

“He was wearing a cowl, as they often do when they venture away from Spliceville. He came out of nowhere just as things were reaching a climax. Poor old Emperor was out of condition, he put up a valiant fight, but his end was surely coming. Then the Splice jumped into the ring, pulled the competitor off and picked up the Emperor. I expected him to be torn to shreds but a strange thing happened, the Emperor just curled up in his arms, like a child.”

“I take it you didn’t just let him walk out.”

“Indeed not. My associates tried to stop him but he was very quick and skilful. He scarred several of them quite badly, but he seemed careful not to kill anyone.”

“Scarred? So he had claws?”

“Oh yes. Also, his fur, it was red.”

“When was this?”

“Two nights ago. If the Emperor can be returned to me I would be very grateful. There is a substantial finder’s fee.”

I ignored that. She knew she couldn’t buy me and must’ve been desperate to try it. “I’ll see what I can do. But in exchange I want some information.”

“Of course. You wish to know about the Black Lotus who was killed on Yang Thirteen.”

“Word gets around.”

“I know little except that he was hired from Downside. A very big contract. He was a Dai Wei of the Red Sun Circle, a Vietnamese affiliate.”

“You think the Vics have some stake in this?”

“They have a stake in most things.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

*

I went to see Consuela after leaving Madam Choi’s. The beach this time. The settings were her choice and the immersion software had a pretty big library. Somehow though, we always seemed to end up in the forest or on the beach. She sat watching the evening tide roll in while the sun dipped into the horizon. She had probably been watching the sunset all day.

“How was father?” she asked as I sank onto the sand next to her.

“Been speaking to Freak again?”

“He likes to have someone to confide in?”

“It.”

“What?”

“You said he. Freak doesn’t have a gender.”

“I suppose that depends on your point of view.”

“Your father is well. He sends his love.”

“No he doesn’t. He thinks I’m dead. And he’s right.”

“Con, please…”

“It’s OK, I’m tired of the argument. You never listen. And why should you? I’m just a ghost after all.”

“You’re not a ghost, you’re my wife. If you can just hang on. A few more years. They’re coming up with new treatments all the time…”

“When, Alex? A year? Ten? Twenty? A couple of centuries maybe? And will you still be waiting for me? This place, these dreams I live in…” She scooped up a handful of sand, opening her fingers to let the grains drift away in the wind. “Perfect, no glitches, no clues, nothing to tell me it’s not real. But I feel it, I know it in my soul. This isn’t paradise, this isn’t heaven. This is a prison where you keep the ghost of your dead wife. And the worst thing is I’m not haunting you, you’re haunting me.”

My smart started bleating. I shut it off and threw it into the sea.

“You better answer that,” she said. “Someone still breathing might need your help.”

*

It was Sherry. “Alex, we’ve got trouble. Two suits from CAOS Federal Security just left my office with everything we’ve got on the Black Lotus. They also purged the mainframe of all pertinent data and we’ve got a signed order from Chief Arnaud to desist from further investigation.”

“And those are your instructions to me?”

“Why else would I be calling?”

“Very well. I hereby acknowledge your instructions to desist from investigation into the Black Lotus case.”

I signed off, hit the encryption icon on the touch screen and tuned to the private channel where she was waiting. “What can you tell me?”

“Not much. The ampoule we got off the body, Ricci says it’s not poison, quite the opposite.”

“An antidote?”

“Cardeferon, they use it to treat heart defects.”

“Did the Shuriken have heart trouble?”

“Ricci says no. Look this is bad news, Alex. This whole thing. If you want to drop it…”

I sounded off and called Colonel Riviere. “I want to see Freak.”

*

Freak is the mother of all enigmas, the daddy of all Splices and most humane individual alive. I could’ve spoken to Freak over the smart but s/he prefers the personal touch.

Freak lives in a big pod at the centre of the Axis, myriad tentacles jacked in to every system on the Slab, reading every smart transmission, financial transaction and data entry. Omnipotence personified, Freak is a cyber-god. Colonel Riviere never told me where he found Freak. There are rumours about a raid on an orbiting Russian research lab but no-one knows for sure. Where ever s/he came from Freak was our salvation. Once he managed to establish communication with his discovery Riviere persuaded it to tap into the UN Orbital Intervention Force mainframe and download the security overrides that made the Langley raid possible.

Two hundred of us fanatical freedom fighters dropped on CIA HQ, fought our way into the communications centre, downloaded every byte they had and shot it to Freak in a concentrated data-squirt. Freak had it all decrypted and distributed within five seconds of transmission: troop dispositions, battle plans for the next twelve months, even the keys to every code they used. A month later the UNOIF was on its knees and our glorious leader was sitting at a conference table with the Secretary General discussing terms for the formal recognition of CAOS. The rest is a history lesson. As for the brave two hundred, me and Consuela were two of the six who made it out.

If you want to know what Freak looks like I can’t tell you for sure, s/he’s so enmeshed in the machinery now it’s difficult not to think of a giant squid in collision with a computer factory.

“Alex,” Freak’s soft, androgynous tones echoing from the multiple speakers as I floated in. “Nice to see you. I visited with Consuela earlier.”

“So I gather.”

“Ah, our intimacy angers you. You are envious that she finds companionship with a monster…”

“Freak.”

“…when she constantly rages at you for keeping her alive. But she is so lonely–”

“Freak! This is official business. I need your help.”

Something stirred wetly in the wall of flesh and circuitry, folds parted to reveal an eye the size of a basketball, iris contracting as it found the focus. “How handsome you are. I’m surprised Consuela prefers you ugly.”

“Ugly is who I am.”

Freak is fickle. God-hood will do that to you, I guess. Omnipotence makes everything clear, every action and reaction. Positive acts have negative consequences and vice versa. So Freak will help or s/he won’t, and an explanation is never forthcoming either way.

The eye closed. “What can I do for you?”

“Is Tyger Joe on the Slab?”

“Yes. He arrived four days ago on a freighter from the Texan Republic and has been hiding out in Spliceville.”

“So he killed the Black Lotus?”

“Yes.”

“And stole Madam Choi’s rat?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He killed the Black Lotus because he had been hired to keep him alive. I have no idea why he stole the rat.”

“The Black Lotus was hired to keep him alive?”

“Yes. The ampoule Dr Ricci recovered contains a drug used to control heart defects. Tyger Joe’s heart was surgically weakened when he signed his contract with MEC. He must receive regular doses of cardeferon or he will succumb to myocardial infarction. MEC sees this as an incentive to loyalty. I assume the Black Lotus tried to inject Joe with the drug and died in the attempt. This would indicate an eagerness on MEC’s part to retrieve their champion. He’s worth over six billion in Universal Accreditation after all.”

“How close are they?”

“They lost him at Madam Choi’s rat contest.”

“How long before his heart gives out?”

“Assuming he doesn’t have a cardeferon supply of his own, about fourteen hours.”

“What’s he doing here, Freak? Seems a long way to come just to steal a rat and have a heart attack.”

“The Slab is currently home to ex-Doctor Mariel Janus, one time Nobel laureate who pioneered accelerated de-Splicing techniques before losing her licence after several patients died during treatment. As you know, de-Splicing is a lengthy and expensive process, taking several months. Dr Janus’s technique enables a subject to become fully human in a matter of hours. I have information that she is continuing to perform the procedure, quite illegally of course, and at an inflated price.”

“MEC know about her?”

“Oh yes. Of the forty MEC operatives on the Slab, twelve are engaged in surveillance of you. The remainder are attempting to locate Dr Janus. I estimate they will find her within eleven hours.”

“I don’t get it. Joe’s the best, that Puma guy won’t even scratch him. They treat him like a god. Why throw it all away?”

Something shifted in the wall of flesh, some small spasm of discomfort. “Do you remember the time before the war, Alex? Do you remember what it was to be a slave?”

Memories clouding - pain and fear and hate. I shook them away. “Yeah, I remember.”