Empire State (11 page)

  Rad pushed wet newspaper out of his path with a shoe and joined Kane. The pair sat on their haunches and studied the ground.

  Kane looked at Rad. "Odd place to find a body, right?"

  Rad shrugged, but his professional interest was piqued. "The body was hidden."

  "Yes, but not with any kind of care. And it takes two guys to shift this bin. It's completely full, probably has been for weeks."

  "OK..."

  Kane pointed back to the alley floor. The pale flagstones had been badly repaired with weak black tarmac. The tarmac was soft and crumbly like a wet sponge.

  Rad looked at the tarmac closely, exchanged a look with Kane, then returned his attention to the tarmac. It was impressed with two triangular shapes, over a foot long each. They were pressed deeply into the ground, with precise, clean edges. Footprints of a very special kind.

  Rad stood up. He wasn't sure. It was peculiar, to say the least. But he needed something else, something more than just a pair of screwy prints.

  The reporter stood and seeing Rad's worried expression, smiled again and flicked his hair out of his eyes, which had lit up with excitement.

  "There's more...
here
... and
here
."

  Kane pointed first to the brick wall, and then to a point on the closest edge of the dumpster at more or less the same level. The dumpster's edge was buckled and the flaking yellow paint sheared off, along with a healthy dose of rust, to reveal unsullied virgin metal, shining silver in the dark. On the alley wall, the brickwork was scored. The scratches were deep, two lines in parallel.

  Rad exhaled loudly and looked back at the body behind the dumpster.

  "That's a mighty fine piece of investigation, Mr Fortuna. You ever considered writing for a newspaper?"

  Kane laughed, but it didn't make Rad feel any better. The disappearance of Sam Saturn had just got a whole load more complicated.

  Rad recognised the footprints, and the marks on the dumpster and the brick were the icing on the cake. Kane had done well to spot the evidence. Rad pulled his fedora off and rubbed his bald scalp. Kane stood with his arms folded. He nodded to Nelson, who came out into the light.

  Nelson was holding a portable camera, something like a miniature accordion with a large half-sphere flash on top. He adjusted the concertina lens and, after a quick nod to both Kane and Rad, moved past them to get a better position. The camera flashes were blinding, and Rad turned his back.

  Kane lowered his voice to a whisper, as if suddenly afraid of eavesdroppers. The alley was as dead as the girl, although there was the odd bit of traffic out on the main street. Not enough to be worried, certainly not enough that anyone might see or hear them.

  "The footprints."

  "A robot," said Rad.

  "A robot."

  Rad nodded, replacing his hat. "You're right."

  "Which means..."

  "Which means that ironclad didn't come back empty."

  "Which means that quarantine was either too late or is too loose. It's in the city."

  Rad tapped a finger against his lip. The ache of each contact was somehow warm and friendly, and helped him focus his thoughts. He stopped tapping and angled the finger towards his friend.

  "A robot ever go rogue before?"

  Kane frowned and shook his head. "I don't know. Not that I can remember. I can check it at the paper. If it's happened before we'll have a report, whether it was printed or not."

  "That's a start," said Rad, and then he paused. "I can't tell Kopek yet. That's my client, the one looking for Ms Saturn here. I need more to go on. And then I might need some more money. I don't like it when a case goes like this. Explains why the police don't give half a damn."

  "If it was a robot?"

  Rad nodded. "They either knew in the first place, or they found the same signs. Or…"

  "Or?"

  "Or they were told to stand down by a higher authority?"

  Kane looked over his shoulder as Nelson's camera continued to flash.

  "What do we do with the body?"

  Rad stared blankly at the alley wall, deep in thought. "Jerry. He'll know someone. We can't leave it here, we need to get it on ice, or maybe move it and get the police back. They might be happy to collect it from somewhere else if they can pretend it's nothing to do with a robot."

  Kane pulled on Rad's shoulder. "We need to get to the ship."

  "The what now?" Rad almost shouted, then seeing Nelson jerk his head up, lowered his voice and leaned in to Kane. "Do you have a death wish or something? That ain't going to happen."

  Kane huffed. "We need to figure this out, don't we? For your client. The more coincidences we come across, the more likely they aren't coincidences at all. That ironclad comes back, the first one ever, and nobody seems to give a damn. That's odd in itself. But it looks like it brought back a robot, and that robot is in the city, and he killed your missing person. Don't tell me you think this is just another interesting night in the Empire State?"

  Rad considered. Kane was right but it made him nervous. Nervous of getting involved with something that went way beyond the purview of a private detective. Missing persons was one thing, even murder and death wasn't that unusual for him. But the involvement of the robot, the return of the ironclad? This was getting deep into the business of the Empire State itself. And the Empire State didn't appreciate nosy citizens, private detective or not.

  "I know someone. Two people, actually," said Kane, pushing the point, pulling his face close to Rad's. "We can get to the boat and nobody will know. You need to collect evidence for your client. I have a feeling I'm onto the hottest news story this city has seen since Wartime began. You follow?"

  Rad's shoulders sank, and he nodded. It was too late to pull out now. He had an obligation to his client and bills to pay.

  There was a roar overhead, and the alley was lit in shocking red and blue. Nelson stopped photographing the body and looked up, along with Kane and Rad.

  A police blimp passed overhead, almost low enough to touch the roofs of the two buildings that formed the alley's walls. It slowed, and spun on its axis, and two white search lights stabbed downwards on Rad, Kane and Nelson, before playing over the rest of the alley. The trio quickly shrank back into the shadows in the corner, next to the body behind the dumpster. Rad tried not to look. He pulled his white hat off in case it acted like a beacon.

  The blimp drifted on, but after a few seconds they could still hear its engines thrumming a small distance away.

  Rad pulled his hat back on. "Come on," he said and, holding his breath and praying to whoever would listen, he helped the other two slide the dumpster back against the wall. The remains of Sam Saturn were hidden once more. As much as it rubbed him the wrong way, Rad knew they had no choice. The poor girl had to stay right where she was, for now.

  "Time to leave," he said quietly. "Maybe they're coming back to clean up."

  Kane and Nelson hurried out of the alley at a jog. Rad watched until they disappeared around the corner, then followed.

 
 

 

 
 

IF KANE FORTUNA SAID HE knew someone, usually with a nudge and a wink and a whisper, then in all likelihood he was telling the truth. The star reporter was a walking telephone directory, a gold mine of contacts and addresses and numbers. He knew people above the law, he knew people under the wire. He knew normal, everyday people, and he knew the interesting folk of the city.

  Rad wondered if he knew two goons in fedoras and gas masks, but he didn't ask.

  Sam Saturn's death was caused by a robot, and the robot had arrived on the ironclad anchored in the harbour. That much was clear. Now Kane wanted to go take a look at the ship, and on this point Rad wasn't so sure, because if the robot was on land, and if it was malfunctioning (and it had to be, otherwise why would it kill a random member of the public and dump the body behind a bin in a wet alley?) then it needed to be found and put out of action. A single robotic sailor with a squeaky set of cogs in a city like the Empire State...

  Rad stopped walking, and pulled off his hat to rub his head. With a robot on the loose, by this time tomorrow they could all be dead. Him. Kane and Nelson and the staff of the newspaper. Jerry. The two guys in gas masks. Everyone in the city.

  So OK, maybe there would be some clue on the ironclad, but maybe Kane was getting too far ahead. Interfering with such matters could get them both killed, if the malfunctioning robot didn't get them first anyway.

  Kane said, "You look a little peaky."

  Kane strolled back to Rad, and Rad put his hat back on. The rain had broken at last, but the air felt thick and clammy. For the nth time, Rad had lost a day. How Kane could put up with working all day and all night, he never knew. Maybe that's what made him good at what he did, and good he was. The best.

  "I need some sleep and I need some goddamn daylight. How do you do it?"

  Kane shrugged. "Lots of coffee?"

  "Huh," said Rad. "Don't remind me. I used a month's ration in two days."

  Kane whistled. "That's gotta be tough. Two weeks until the next ration book."

  "Yeah, yeah." Rad waved Kane on. "Come on, we there yet?"

  The Upper East Side was not an area Rad was used to visiting. The people who could afford to live in these digs could afford a better class of detective for their sordid private affairs. At least he assumed their affairs were sordid. What else was there for these people to do?

  Tall, wide apartment buildings were dotted around private green yards bigger than most municipal parks in the rest of the city. Each gated and locked. Expensive and classy, but it didn't feel very friendly and Rad didn't feel comfortable.

  They'd parked Kane's yacht of a car several blocks away. The Upper East Side was watched carefully, not just by the police blimps which cruised over this part of the island in notable numbers, but by a private army of security guards. Authorised by the City Commissioners and empowered to use just as much force as the regular law, they were not people you wanted to attract the attention of. Two well-dressed guys on a stroll, said Kane, were much less conspicuous than a slowly crawling car.

  On the drive over from Kane's building, the reporter had given Rad a little information on who they were visiting, but nowhere near enough to satisfy his curiosity or, Rad hated to admit, his suspicions. When they'd pulled up, Rad had leaned over to the driver's side and gripped the steering wheel with one hand just as Kane moved to get out.

  "Now hold on," said Rad. "Remind me about this guy."

  Kane slumped back into the driver's seat and slid his backside around on the soft leather to better hold a conversation. They'd parked with other cars on an average street a few blocks away from their destination, but Kane had drifted the bulk of the vehicle away from the nearest streetlight. The pair were deep in shadow, the windshield nothing but a black oblong when seen from outside. If anyone was watching.

  "Captain Carson isn't just a 'guy'," said Kane, exasperation but also a hint of excitement in his voice. Whoever this "Captain" was, Kane seemed to take some pride in having his acquaintance.

  "He lives here with a friend. Both confirmed bachelors, both with unique experience and, more importantly, the skills and equipment we need to get in under the cordon and get onto that ship." Kane paused, fixing Rad's small brown eyes with his own large blue ones. "Do you want to solve the murder of Sam Saturn or not?"

  Rad
hrmmed
. "You gonna tell him about the body?"

  Kane shook his head. "No need, for now. I called in a favour at a precinct uptown. Friend of mine has it on ice and can keep people away."

  "I thought the police weren't interested?"

  "Not officially, but I have friends."

  Rad smiled. "Handy," he said, then he pulled at his lip. "I don't know if you thought about it too much, but there might be a real, genuine reason for the ironclad to be in quarantine. Not just because it's an embarrassing secret for the Empire State. What if it's brought back some disease, or some germ weapon from the Enemy? Maybe it's out there in the harbour in the dark for a reason?"

  Kane's face cracked into a huge grin. He bumped a clenched fist gently into the steering wheel, twice.

  "Exactly, detective! That's why Captain Carson is just the man for this. Come on. When have I let you down?"

  Rad coughed and shifted himself back over towards the passenger-side door. "Well, there was that one time..."

  Kane slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Get outta town!"

  Both exited the vehicle, snicking the doors closed as quietly as possible. Sticking to the night shadows cast by the wet, dripping trees on the curb, they slipped off towards the pricey end of town.

 

"Can I tempt you to a shortbread, detective?"

  The plate was offered. Rad regarded the silver tongs held delicately between the thumb and ring finger of the left hand of the elderly gentleman in whose plush house he now sat, and eventually nodded. The old man smiled broadly and let out a satisfied sigh, dropping a yellow-brown confection onto the saucer of Rad's teacup. Seated next to Rad on the red leather, Kane closed his eyes, his smile threatening to evolve into a full laugh.

  Captain Carson had welcomed Kane into the house like he was a long-lost friend. Rad stood out of the way of the hugs and handshakes and the talking over each other for a full minute; but after a brief introduction from Kane, Rad found himself on the end of this affection as well.

  The Captain, as he insisted on being called, had led them from the gigantic front door, itself at least a storey and a half high, down a corridor laid with carpet so thick it was like walking on marshmallow, and into a parlour not entirely dissimilar to a miniature version of a tearoom, which Rad had once seen in one of the city's larger, more expensive hotels. Rad and Kane were invited to sit together on the settee, while their host slumped into a matching armchair so deep he practically vanished between the curved wing-like arms.