Taking the Highway (37 page)

“I wouldn’t move him,” Talic said. “He could have a neck injury.”

Andre ignored him, patting the pockets of his borrowed coat until he found Danny’s cuff cutters. He removed the zipcuffs from Nikhil’s wrists and laid him prone on the seat. Nikhil groaned, which Andre considered a very good sign. One of his arms seemed wobbly, dislocated or broken in the crash. The gash on his forehead was oozing blood. “Hold on, buddy,” Andre told him. “Just hold on a few minutes.”

[
ATTENTION! ATTENTION!
]

Andre frowned and reached behind his ear to acknowledge the page.

The computerized voice of the AI dispatcher came through his implant. “Sergeant LaCroix, please report to the mayor’s office.”

Andre could tell from Talic’s rigid posture that he was receiving the same summons. What was Zuchek playing at?

He clicked in. “Detective Sergeant LaCroix is currently suspended from the Detroit police force. Detective Sergeant LaCroix will not be responding to official police messages at this time.” He clicked off and shut down the implant.

Talic gave him a shake of the head and a breathless whistle. “You got some steel-plated gonads.”

Andre held up one finger.
Wait for it.
His datapad vibrated in his pocket. He picked it up and looked at the display before answering. “May I help you?”

Mother Mad was in some kind of floral dress—probably a ball gown—her hair and makeup flawless. She sat in front of a bank of windows overlooking the city. She must have left Greenfield Village as soon as she missed her meeting with Topher and was now back at her office. She sneered into the camera. “I don’t care where you are or what you think you’re doing, but sometime in the next ten minutes, I expect to see you on the twentieth floor of the New Building.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” Andre said.

“It will be more difficult if you don’t.” She snapped off.

Andre stowed the pad and looked at Talic, eyebrows raised.

Talic shook his head. “Don’t.”

“I have to.” Hell, if he could prove half of what he knew she’d done, she’d go away forever.

“Don’t,” Talic repeated. “The considerations here are beyond the rules of law.”

Andre clawed in his jacket, whipped out the Yavorit, and aimed it at Talic’s face. Talic’s eyes widened as he raised his hands.

“You know what’s above the law, Talic? Nothing. No one. Not your puppet master Madison Zuchek, not you.”

“You want to arrest me? You want to put me in your wagon and escort me downtown? Go ahead.” Talic lowered his hands and held them together at the wrists. “Put the cuffs on me right now. But to do that, you’ll have to leave your nephew behind.”

Andre glanced at the screamer. Three more minutes. Nikhil’s breathing was shallow and labored, his face ghostly. The Yavorit felt like a five-kilo weight in his hand.

Talic angled his head toward Nikhil. “You can stand there and point a gun at me all day, but that does nothing to help him.”

T
he elevator in the
New Building was almost identical to the lifts in headquarters and as the doors slid open on the twentieth floor, Andre tried for the same blank calmness he felt approaching the target range. Just a drill, he told himself. Keep it fast and light. His dread of a confrontation with security in the lobby had turned to relief when they’d waved him through, and then to low-level panic when he thought about what that implied. Clearly Mother Mad was expecting him, and did not care if he was armed, which meant she was holding something bigger than a gun. He still had no idea where Mayor Smith stood in this, and until he did, any move he made would be the wrong one.

The door opened easily and the conference room’s air conditioning blew into him like a November wind. The sweat around his collar cooled instantly, encircling his neck like an icy noose. The last time he’d been in this room, it had been full of overheated bodies and hot coffee and the simmering tension of wolves establishing pack dominance. Now, the dim lights and cool air held the brittleness of a thinly-frozen lake about to shatter under his feet.

Madison Zuchek sat at the head of the table. A datapad was open on the desk, set aside and ignored. Instead, she was drawing vicious lines on a short stack of papers. When he would have spoken, she held up a just-a-moment hand that made Andre want to shoot her on the spot. She smiled and put down her pen, then turned her attention to him. “I should thank you, Sergeant.” Her voice was soft and high, the all-seeing mother managing her brood. “Today’s fiasco at Greenfield Village has made a mockery of the economic summit, but at least it brought me Topher.”

“Where is Price-Powell? Did you kill him too?”

“Certainly not. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m beginning to.” She’d called Topher by his given name. He was no longer an enemy.

“This case, Sergeant LaCroix, is no longer your concern. All will be put right in a few days and the city can put this whole nasty business behind it.” Her tone became reproving. “I would think after the mess you’ve made, you’d be as pleased as anyone by the restoration of order.”

“So murder in the name of order is just part of doing business.”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand what we do to protect and safeguard the people of this city—”

“And the crashes? Who protected the people of the city from the Overdrive sabotage?”

“
You
are responsible. You started this investigation.” Madison pushed off from the chair’s arms and stood. “From the start, you have ruined everything. I was seeing to things, quietly, doing what was best for the city without causing any panic, or transportation issues, or even a whiff of scandal. The spinners didn’t even notice. Then you forced my hand and I had to form the task force.”

Andre glanced at the door to the adjoining office. “Was that with or without Mayor Smith’s approval? Did she even know?”

“I was handling this!” Madison walked behind her chair and gripped the back of it. “If you had let us do our jobs, there wouldn’t have been a single Overdrive crash. Fourths would be happy, commuters would be happy, and the investment dollars would be pouring in right now.”

“It’s not your job to murder people.”

“They were
killers
. They were
terrorists
who would hold my city hostage.”

“So you took care of it.”

“I’m still taking care of it.”

“By working with Topher Price-Powell?” He gestured to the papers on the desk. “Let me guess. He’s your new advisor, bringing you a ‘bold new vision’ for Detroit.”

“Politics and bedfellows, Detective. You are the one who forced me to co-opt the Council for Economic Justice instead of merely allowing Talic to deal with them. Until your interference I had everyone looking the wrong way. Now . . .” She sighed. “I’ve had to make some significant compromises.”

“And you expect me to compromise as well.”

“Indeed. You’ll start by signing this.” Madison selected a small piece of paper from the stack and slid it across the table. Whatever it was, she didn’t find it worthy of an entire sheet. Andre stepped closer to the table and read the short paragraph.

It was mild, as far as confessions went. He’d half-expected it to pin the murders, the Overdrive crashes, and probably Madison’s last chipped fingernail on him. But it simply said that Andre had falsified evidence and that Topher Price-Powell was, in fact, innocent. Did Madison truly believe that would be enough to protect her? Then again, it was probably just the opening move in an intricate plan. She would cover what she needed to cover, reveal what she needed to reveal, her influence and authority swirling around her, deflecting all blame.

Madison strolled toward him, standing closer. Too close. She looked into his eyes, tilting her chin proudly to do so. Andre could feel the energy radiating off her, like the very scent of power.

“This is merely a formality,” she said. “An insurance policy, if you will. You sign this, I hold onto this, and as long as you keep your mouth shut, it stays buried forever. Pen?” She picked up the one she’d been using when he arrived and pointed it at him, nearly poking him with it.

Andre took a step away from her and pressed his back to the wall. He pulled open his jacket and unholstered the Yavorit. He held it low, but the message was unmistakable. “Or, I tell you to stick that pen up your ass, arrest you right now, and start blabbing to the first spinner I see.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Although you don’t deserve it, you’re going to come out of this quite well. Your efforts in handling today’s crisis can be given a very different spin. You’re the goat now, but we need a hero and you’ll do fine.”

Madison paced in a semi-circle around him, marking the perimeter of his cage. “The fourths didn’t sabotage Overdrive. That bad press the fourths are getting? The mayor’s office will put a stop to that. When this case is solved and every single report has your name on it, how could we fail to promote you? I predict you’ll make Lieutenant by the new year. All you have to do is sign that piece of paper and you’re free to go, with the gratitude of the citizens of Detroit to keep you warm at night.”

Madison turned her back, marched to the window, and stared down at the city laid out before her. Andre shifted against the wall, more uncomfortable now than when she’d invaded his personal space. Mother Mad had turned her back on an armed man. Could she truly be that fearless? The Yavorit seemed to be sliding through his sweaty fingers, but he couldn’t move his hand to grip it.

It took Andre two tries to lift the lapel of the borrowed jacket. The cut was all wrong. Nothing was where it should be. He finally got it open and holstered his gun. He wiped damp palms down the side of his trousers.

Madison put her hands on the glass, addressing the city below. “The other side of the fence is very bleak. It can all be your fault, the crashes, the deaths. We can lay them at your feet very easily, you and your nephew—his name is Nikhil, isn’t it? I’ll make sure he goes to jail for a good long time. You yourself will be under suspension, review, termination. You’ll be lucky to get away without prison time. Maybe you can share a cell with your nephew—keep him safe in there.”

She tapped one square-nailed finger on the glass but did not turn. “Every fourth in the city will be tarred with the same brush I use on you, especially when we arrest several of the more prominent ones. No one wants a terrorist in his car.” Madison turned, her lean body framed by the city lights behind her. “The only way a fourth will get a ride in this town is by clinging to a hood.”

“You’ll shut down the city.”

“No, we’ll save it. We’ll double the funding for public transportation. More trains on the monorail. More busses on the streets. Mayor Smith will be a hero. She’ll be known as the leader who finally broke the automobile stranglehold in Detroit.”

“Shouldn’t that be the mayor’s decision?”

“If not Smith, then the next mayor. When her term is over, it could be Oliver LaCroix in a landslide.”

He pointed to the confession. “If I sign this? What’s to stop you from giving it to every news outlet in the country?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Madison snapped. “Going public is the last thing I want. I’ll be working full time on damage control as is. If it comes out that I let a couple of nut jobs and some greasy fourths disable the greatest city in the world? Honestly!” She picked up the paper and waved it at him. “This, here? It protects us both. Sign it.”

Andre wiped a moist hand over his damp neck. Why was he perspiring so much when it was so cold in here? He looked from Madison to the damning piece of paper in her hand, as if they were two sides of the choice instead of a package deal.

He wasn’t worried about his own job. He could take his lumps, both with Internal Affairs and with the fourths, if there still was such a thing as fourths after this. But Nikhil? The kid wouldn’t last a day in jail.

He knew what Oliver would say, if he were standing in his brother’s place. Oliver would tell him that Madison was being more than fair, that she was doing what was best for the city as a whole, and that he could affect more change from within the government than outside of it.

He thought of Bob Masterson. Bob and the other fourths were victims of the Overdrive crashes, not its cause. Andre reached into his pocket for his fourthing badge. The holographic seal caught the light, like an eye winking at him. This was bigger than him, or his family. Mother Mad had really given him no choice at all.

He stowed the fourthing badge and reached out a thumb and pinky. He touched just a fraction of a corner of the paper, gently lifting it from Madison’s fingers. She tried to give him the pen too but he waved it away. He held the paper up to the light. “I have to hand it to you, Madison Zuchek, you’re one classy lady. Paper. Ink. Way to keep it real. I especially love that your fingerprints are all over this.” He carefully slid the confession into one of the oversized pockets of his jacket. “Naked Jay has never been a fan of this administration. I give him this, he’ll probably kiss me on the mouth.”

Andre fished the bright orange zipcuffs out of another pocket of the borrowed jacket. “You are under arrest for—”