Empire State (20 page)

  He didn't know why the telephone always started up just as he got to the top of the stairs at the end of his hallway. It was becoming a regular occurrence, and then Rad realised that maybe Nimrod's men were watching him. Or maybe, somehow, Nimrod himself could just
see
what Rad was doing. Nimrod's tall tale returned fleetingly to Rad's mind, but he pushed it away with a frown and squashed his cheek into the cold glass.

  Nineteen... twenty. The phone died. Rad counted a few more seconds off, then opened the door. He stood behind it for a while, looking around his office, then shook his head and
harrumphed
loudly.

  Was he being cautious, or paranoid? He wasn't sure, but to save himself becoming a shadow-jumper he decided to stick with the cynical, straight-down-the-line approach. Fantasy didn't come into it. He couldn't afford to be fanciful, not in his line of work. Rad's back touched his closed office door and for a moment he remembered his earlier cases, jobs that, while not necessarily easy or simple, were at least logical when you came down to it. He rolled back the memories, revelling a little in the nostalgia of past days. And then his face creased and his forehead furrowed, and he opened his eyes. The effects of Wartime did odd things to the memory. He couldn't remember what his first case was about.

  There was a knock on the door, the report loud in the dead office and enough of a surprise that Rad pushed himself off the door and clean into the middle of the room. With his back still to the door, he called over his shoulder.

  "Who is it?" He was sure whoever it was could hear his heart thundering down to the building lobby five floors below.

  "I tried calling, Mr Bradley," said a woman's voice. It was small behind the door. Rad turned and saw a shadow with a hat move behind the glass.

  Rad turned and reached for the door. Ms Katherine Kopek stood in the hallway, looking at the floor, one hand tugging on the opposite sleeve of her tunic. The startling red outfit was gone, replaced by a sombre affair in royal blue. Still striking, still full of class and reminding Rad plainly how low his own income was. He needed more clients like Ms Kopek.

  "Ms Kopek, please come in," he said, straightening his voice into something serious and businesslike. OK, so he'd have to magic up a great story for her about Sam Saturn and his investigation, but so long as his voice was low and level and his eyebrows folded into an expression of professional concern, she'd buy anything he said. He'd done it before, it was part of the job. Occasionally a case would go on for too long, or, more likely, would be wrapped up so quickly Rad hardly had any time to generate any expenses. Sometimes you had to stretch the truth.

  Ms Kopek stepped smartly into the room, but as soon as Rad closed the door and turned to face his client, her hand pressed his breastbone firmly. He stepped back until he hit the door, watching her fingers curve backwards as she pushed on his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lips just formed an instinctive O-shape as she brought up her other hand. In it, she held a gun, compact, all squares and rectangles, the perfect size to keep in a fashionable woman's handbag. But her hand was shaking, and Rad noticed the wavering barrel was actually pointing at the back of her other hand, currently on his chest. If she intended to shoot – and Rad could tell already that she wouldn't – she'd blow it off in the process. Rad relaxed and let himself slump a little on the door.

  "Don't move!" she shrieked at his movement. Her voice was high and broken, as frightened as the hand that held the gun.

  Rad didn't, although he let his head tilt a little from side to side as he tried to gauge the kind of state that Ms Kopek was in. She watched him, her eyes wide and face frozen almost in surprise. Would she calm down and lower the weapon after a minute or so? Or would her nerves ratchet up enough that she'd start shooting anything in front of her out of pure fright?

  Fright. At first Rad thought she was frightened by the gun, and frightened at finding herself at a time in her life where she, a lady of distinction and taste, with a distinctive and tasteful and
extensive
bank account, had somehow found herself at the wrong end of town holding a gun.

  But maybe she wasn't frightened by that, exactly. Both hands were shaking now and the shakes spread over her body as tears started to well in her eyes. The pupils were tiny nothings in her light grey irises. Her breathing was shallow and fast; she was racing on pure adrenaline and… something else?

  Rad watched her for a moment. She'd never held a gun before, that was easy enough to tell. The weapon was unfamiliar, her grip was too tight on it. And while he could imagine that she might have had a weapon in that small handbag – bought no doubt on the recommendation of friends or relatives, who merely shook their heads as they said the city wasn't what it used to be – this particular gun was an oddity. Small pocket revolvers were what frightened ladies carried. This was small but it was a semi-automatic.

  "Who gave you the gun?" he asked.

  Ms Kopek snapped her wrist higher, and the barrel moved in the direction of his face.

  "Don't say a word, or I'll blow a hole in you!" Her words were fast, garbled, her gaze unfocussed.

  "Who told you to say that?"

  Ms Kopek's shakes seemed to pause for a moment as she thought. Her mouth turned down at the sides and her wet, wide eyes narrowed, just a hair or two. When she spoke again, her voice lacked that panicky edge that worried Rad.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean," Rad began, carefully picking his words and speaking slowly and clearly before realising he'd raised his hands against the door. He gently began to lower them back to his sides. "I mean, who gave you the gun and told you to come see me with it? Who sent you?"

  The gun grip slackened and then the barrel moved back down to Rad's chest. She let the other hand drop, and as it hung by her side Rad watched her flex the fingers, moving the life back into them.

  "I... it doesn't matter. This is important."

  He nodded. "I'm sure it is, Ms Kopek." As he spoke, she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with the back of her gun hand. His eyes were locked on the end of the barrel. Inexperienced and nervous and armed, not to mention most likely doped, she was an accident waiting to happen.

  "No, no," she said, shaking her head. She suddenly looked tired, and when she brought the gun back to bear she seemed to rock a little on her heels. The adrenaline rush and effects of whatever she'd been dosed with had abated, and she was turning grey, exhausted.

  "No what, Ms Kopek?" Rad turned the volume up a notch. She was losing it and he was regaining control of the situation. Easy, easy does it.

  "You have to... to stop. Stop investigating. Stop looking for... for..."

  Rad's hands were now down at his sides, out of Katherine's line of sight.

  "Stop looking for what? Or who? Sam? You want to call it off, close the case?"

  Ms Kopek nodded, her movements sluggish. The gun drooped, and Rad took his chance. He reached out and grabbed the top of the barrel, twisting her hand as he did. She let out a small sound but her grip on the pistol was limp, and in a second the gun belonged to Rad. He pocketed it in his trench coat without looking and then squeezed her shoulders with both hands. This snapped her attention back to him, and the white look of fear reappeared on her face.

  "Who sent you, Ms Kopek? Who wants me to drop the case?"

  She sighed, and collapsed. Then Rad sighed, and changed his hold on her shoulders, slipping his hands down her back and lifting her in his arms.

 

She was out for quite a while. Too long, Rad thought as he sat on his office chair, dragged in from the other room to watch over her on the bed. Long enough for him to find another ancient tea ration in the back of a cupboard, and make himself a vile cup, and drink it, and then after setting the empty cup on the floor beside him, eventually pick it up and rinse it in the washroom sink. When he sat down again, she opened her eyes. Her pupils were still small, but he thought they looked a lot better.

  "Welcome back, Ms Kopek. I don't normally bed my clients on the second visit, but I hope you don't mind. The floor is mighty hard in this building. Old wood."

  She smacked her lips and pushed the hair out of her face. Hitched up on one elbow, she looked at Rad with an expression that would have been hilarious if she hadn't pulled a gun on him just a half hour ago.

  He waved a hand. "Never mind. You OK?"

  "Mmmm," was all she managed. "Can I get some water?"

  Rad shuffled to the washroom.

  "You ever been drugged before?" he called out over his shoulder, then realised there were better ways of putting it. She didn't answer and when he returned with his mug half-filled with lukewarm water she was rubbing her face, apparently oblivious.

  "Here."

  She drank greedily. Rad watched the liquid trickle over the edge of the mug and down her chin, onto his bedspread.

  "Can you remember anything, Ms Kopek?"

  She nodded as she finished the last of the drink, then smacked her lips again. It was an unattractive gesture.

  "I'm sorry. I don't have a choice. You have to stop the investigation. You're no longer being employed by me, Mr Bradley, as of right now."

  They looked at each other in silence. Eventually, Ms Kopek sat up on the bed and began adjusting her creased tunic. She patted the pockets urgently and looked up at the detective. Rad smiled.

  "Oh, don't worry about that. I've got it safe. Why don't you tell me who I should return it to? I'd like to pay them a visit."

  The pulse juddered in Ms Kopek's neck, and her mouth opened like a beached fish gasping. Then she started to cry.

  "Please, I have no choice. You have to stop."

  Rad pressed the point, politely but firmly. "Who sent you, Ms Kopek? Who wants me to quit the case?"

  She leaned forward suddenly, taking Rad by surprise, but it was only to grab his hands. She remained perched on the bed. Rad ran his tongue over the front of his teeth.

  Was it an act, or was it genuine? He wasn't sure. He was sure that she didn't have a clue what she was doing, although desperation made a person do strange things. But she couldn't be desperate for him to stop looking for her lover, unless she'd been dishonest when she hired him. The collapse was real and the gun certainly was, and he was pretty sure even the very rich and very well connected, like Ms Katherine Kopek, didn't have friends in quite those places. He also thought she'd been slipped something to make her a little more… pliable, although that was pure guesswork. Then again guesswork was important in his line of work.

  But as he well knew, there were no such things as coincidences.

  He flipped his hands over and grabbed her wrists. She yelped, but seemed to relax.

  "The Skyguard? Nimrod? Who was it?"

  "Please, you must stop. The State... the State is in danger. You must stop."

  He released her wrists, pushing her back to the bed. She fell backwards onto her elbows and stayed in that position, hair across her face again. Rad stood up and over her.

  "The Empire State, is that what you're saying? The Empire State is in danger if I find Sam Saturn? Well now, ain't that interesting?"

  "I... what? What's interesting?"

  Rad turned his back and paced the room. His hand felt the small dense mass of the pistol in his coat pocket. A government issue gun.

  "Oh, not much, Ms Kopek. Seems a lot of folk think the city is about to be hit by some mighty calamity. Seems it all centres on me too. This week ain't been no picnic."

  "Oh," said Ms Kopek. When Rad turned back, she was sitting up on the bed, hands in her lap. The shakes had stopped entirely.

  Rad sighed, and then apologised as she started at the sound. He helped her to her feet.

  "Go home, Ms Kopek. You're not meant to be a part of this, you never were. But I think maybe Sam stumbled into something way, way out of her league. Out of mine too, maybe."

  Katherine began to protest, but Rad shushed her.

  "Go home. When they get in touch, you can tell them I'm off the case. Tell them you did what they said. But remember, I'll still be looking. You and me, we don't belong to anyone, least of all those motherless bastards at city hall."

  He reached into his pocket and took out her semi-automatic pistol. Her eyes widened at the sight of it. He lifted her handbag without a sound, considered for a moment, then returned the gun to his pocket, shaking his head. Their eyes met, and Katherine Kopek nodded, and Rad Bradley nodded, and after showing her out of his office with a gentlemanly sweep of the arm, he closed the main door behind her.

  Rad twisted the deadbolt to make sure it was set, and went back to his apartment.

 

 
 

 
 

DID IT EVER STOP RAINING in this fucking place?

  Rex pulled his coat tighter and his hat lower, and hunkered back into the doorway. From his damp position, he looked down the street to the east, and up the street to the west. It was deserted, the wet street shining under hard yellow light. Rex blinked the rain from his eyes, savouring the cool feeling against his eyelids. It helped with the headache and the buzzing. That damned noise, right behind his eyeballs.

  It was night. Rex wasn't sure what time, but it couldn't have been too late. It was hard to tell. With such a thumper of a headache, the daylight was too bright, grey and foggy as it was. He'd been lost a day, maybe two, hiding in alleyways, in basement stairwells during the day, coming out at night to try and find his way home.

  It wasn't intentional. In fact, it was exactly what Rex didn't want to be doing. He was lost, but this was Manhattan. He knew Manhattan, had lived and worked in Manhattan all his life. It was just the shock of the... thing, was all. Rex closed his eyes and listened to the buzzing grow and nodded gently to himself. It was OK. Lesson learned. It had been a harder job that he had expected. No problem. He was OK now. He just had a bump on the head which had given him this goddamn migraine, and that plus the shock of the... thing, had sent him into a bit of a spin. No problem.