Ex-Kop (14 page)

I nodded like I cared. Most offworlders were repulsed by our cooking. They'd see a 'guana on a plate with the head still on, and they'd get all queasy. Horst was one of the rare ones who'd fallen in love with the food. Even then, he'd probably only done so because he got to eat in all the nice restaurants where they made an effort to make the cuisine offworld-compatible. The average Lagartan survived on an unappealing diet of un-spiced fat and gristle over rice.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Hoshi leaned in, telling me Ian was ready for me.

I got up without another word. Liz smiled at me and Horst nodded as he pulled a piece of bread apart for dipping.

I headed for Ian's table. Already, I could feel my face flushing with nervousness.
Get a grip!
I took deep breaths through my
nose as I reached the booth and dropped into Hoshi's vacated seat. “She went to see the cameraman,” I said.

“So I heard.” Ian had ice in his voice.

I leaned forward, my hands on the table. “She didn't get anything out of him, but the guy's a miserable liar. She doesn't believe a word he said.”

Ian nodded. I couldn't get a read on him. I waited uneasily for him to say something. He sipped his brandy … then bit his lip … then ran his fingers through his hair. …

He knows.
I angled my feet toward the door, ready to make a break for it.

“I'm disappointed in you,” he said.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I'm paying you to get that cunt off my ass, and I'm not getting any results.”

“The hell you aren't. You'd still have a camera in your hair if it wasn't for me.”

Ian snatched my hand, his fingers clamping onto my splints. I reflexively punched with my free hand, my fist glancing off the top of his head. My fingers screamed as I tried to pull my right hand free from his grip. I targeted my left again, aiming low, anticipating that he might duck. My broken fingers shrieked in agony as he squeezed down on them. I threw my punch, but he blocked it effectively by lifting and turning his shoulder into my fist's path. He started twisting my hand. My fingers mashed together, bones rubbing in exquisite pain. I tried to pull my hand free, but his grip didn't budge. The bastard was strong as hell. I wouldn't doubt if—in addition to shooting 'roids—he had some offworld tech installed under those biceps.

“Stop fighting me, boy-o.”

I stopped, my eyes blinded with tears.

“You were supposed to tell her I was clean.”

I tried to talk, but I'd gone mute, my mouth just opening
and closing guppy style. He loosened his grip a tad, letting me speak. I looked at the other tables—everybody purposely averted their stares, except for Horst. He was looking right at me, chewing his food, his flawless face alight with amusement.

Between heavy breaths, I said, “I did tell her you were clean. She didn't believe me.”

“You're proving my point.”

“What point?”

“That I'm not getting my money's worth.”

“I can't talk like this. Fucking let go of my hand.”

He did.

My eyes started to clear, and I could breathe again. I clutched my hand to my chest. Waves of pain ricocheted through my arm. “Listen to me, asshole, it was too late to try that Ian's-a-good-cop bullshit. Maggie knows you're dirty. She's been watching you for months. She wants that squad leader job, and she knows that she won't get it as long as you're around. She wants to bring you down, and she's not about to listen to me telling her that you're clean. Besides, me saying somebody's clean doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot to anybody who knows my history. I'm the fucking dirty cop poster boy.”

Ian was listening to me, really listening. He didn't know I'd been at the cameraman's. If he did, he and his buds would've hustled me out the back exit by now, and I'd be on my knees, begging for mercy until they fried a hole through my temple. It hadn't occurred to him that I might stay loyal to Maggie. What did a punk like Ian know about loyalty? He thought I was just a mercenary, out for hire to the highest bidder. He thought that, for all those years, I'd been nothing more than a hired hand to Chief Chang.

Confidence surged through me, making the pain in my fingers a touch more bearable. I waved a waitress over. “Get me a
bottle and a glass. I want a
glass,
you understand me? Don't bring me one of those stupid-ass goblets.” She scurried off.

Ian stayed silent, a vein bulging on his forehead.

My hand was pulsing. “Fuck, that hurts.”

That brought out a grin from Ian. “Tell me why I should keep paying you.”

“Because we had a deal, that's why.”

“The deal was that you were going to get Maggie out of my hair.”

“I did.” I pointed at his widow's peak, where the camera used to be.

He glared at me, not enjoying the joke at all.

The booze arrived and I sucked down a pair of double shots, eager for the anesthesia to take effect. “The best I can do, Ian, is keep you a step ahead of her. We do that long enough, and she'll eventually give up.”

Ian was still looking very displeased.

I took another hit of brandy. “I'll be honest, Ian. There are things she won't tell me. She doesn't trust me entirely, but I
can
keep you out of her reach. You can't keep her from sniffing around. She's already onto your scent. But if you let me do my job, I can see to it she doesn't find anything. I'll be with her every step of the way, steering her away from your trail. She interviews somebody, I'm there turning the questioning around. She starts tracking something big, I ring you up so you can erase your tracks. I'm your fucking guardian angel.”

“You expect me to believe that a washed-up enforcer can protect me?”

“I protected Chief Chang for over twenty years. And his enemies were a hell of a lot scarier than Maggie Orzo.”

I had him. He was nodding his head, seeing my reasoning. “I want this problem to go away,” he said.

“It will. It will.
It's just going to take some time. Now are you going to pay me or what?”

Ian nodded and shrugged at the same time. “We'll keep our arrangement a little longer.”

I gave him an annoyed stare until he actually called up his account and transferred the funds.

Satisfied, I said, “Good. And if you touch my hand again, I'll fucking kill you.”

Ian laughed. “You're unbelievable, boy-o. You sure got a pair on you.”

“I'm serious.”

“Sure you are,” he said, like he was talking to a child.

I did my best to ignore the sarcasm. “I got something for you,” I said.

“What?”

“I was on Maggie's home system last night.”

“How'd you manage that?”

“I've been doing this kind of thing for a long time,” I answered without really answering. “Anyway, I found a set of files that have your name on them.”

Ian became fully attentive. “What's in them?”

“I don't know. They're encrypted. It'll take months to break them using Lagartan crackers, but I found an offworld company that can crack them open in less than thirty hours. It's going to cost you, though.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“How do I know you're not just going to pocket my money?”

I handed him a slip of damp paper from my shirt pocket. “That's the company's name and an account number. I've already uploaded the files to them. You pay them directly, and they'll start the decryption process.”

“What's this other number?”

“That's the price.”

He raised his brows at me. “I can't afford that.”

“I know, but I bet your offworld friend can.”

He looked at me dubiously.

“Listen, Ian, Maggie's been compiling dirt on you for months. Based on the file sizes, my guess is those are vid files. That camera in your hair might not have been the first.”

Ian closed his eyes and shook his jar of a head. “I should just kill that bitch.”

“You know that's a bad move right now,” I said, thinking fast, more lies taking shape in my mind. “She shows up dead, and her family will find those files on her system and start wondering why she was surveilling you. You'd be suspect number one, and her family's got the juice to get a serious investigation launched. Play this my way, and I'll keep you safe until you get that squad leader post. Then you can get her transferred out of homicide—problem solved.”

Ian gave a begrudging nod. “I'll talk to Horst.” He crossed the room, placed his hand on Liz's shoulder and then began whispering in her ear.

I stayed in my seat, thrilling on my scam. Not only was I getting Ian to decrypt the camerman's vid files for me, but I'd gotten the technician at the offworld company to agree to doubling the price and splitting the surplus with me. I'd get that spine paid for one way or another.

Liz was up out of her seat and coming my way, leaving Ian and Horst to discuss my proposal. She took the seat across from me. “How's your hand?”

The pain had receded except for an insistent throbbing coming from my pinky. “It's okay.”

She helped herself to my bottle, pouring a couple fingers' worth into her goblet. “Ian can be such a bully.”

“What happened to him?” I wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know him before?”

“Yes,” she said after a pause.

“Well, what happened to him? It's like he's a different person.”

Her face changed. She looked over at Ian, where he was talking to Horst. For the first time, I felt like I was seeing
her,
the real her. She was watching her boyfriend, her eyes filled with longing, and not the puppy-love kind of longing. It was more the kind of longing you'd see on a widow's face.

I said, “So you're not so thrilled with the new Ian.”

She snapped her gaze back in my direction, as if my observation surprised her. “I didn't say that,” she said.

“You didn't have to. Why do you stay with him?”

“He means a lot to me.”

“He
means
a lot, or he
meant
a lot?”

“Both,” she said with more emphasis than necessary, like she was trying to convince herself more than me.

“One of these days, somebody's going to teach him a lesson,” I said.

“And you plan on being that somebody?” she teased.

I didn't answer.

The real her was already gone. The mischievous flirt was back in full force. She played with a lock of hair that hung alongside her face. “I guess you know a thing or two about bullies.”

I leaned forward, wanting to be close to her. “That's right.”

“You have firsthand experience, don't you?”

“What makes you so interested in my past?”

“I like cops.”

“I'm not a cop.”

“But you used to be.”

“Why do you like cops?”

She kept twirling her hair as she took a sip of brandy with her other hand. “Answer some of my questions first.”

I nodded.

“As the chief's enforcer, it was your job to keep other cops in line?”

I nodded again.

“And how did you manage that?”

“I'd rather not say.”

She took my left hand in hers and folded my fingers into a fist. She studied my misshapen knuckles, running her finger over countless scars. “That's okay. I think I can guess.”

My hand went tingly at her touch. I was
alive
. At that moment, Niki was erased from my mind. I looked over at Ian, who was deep in conversation with Horst. He didn't seem to care that his girlfriend was flirting with another man so, I decided it was just fine to flirt back. I took hold of one of her hands from underneath and dropped my splinted hand overtop—a cool move that went wrong when I had to wince at a sharp pain coming from my pinky.

“Let me see that,” she said.

I protested unconvincingly as she started pulling the wrappings free. With each layer of bandage peeling off, my mood turned increasingly sour as I remembered all the times Niki had nursed these hands, all the times she cleaned off the blood and sanitized the wounds. How I'd sit on the toilet and lean my head on her hip as she worked over the sink, or when there was too much blood, how she'd sit on the tub and hold my hand close to the faucet. All cleaned up, we'd go to bed, and she'd nurse my soul, telling me that I was doing the right thing. Paul Chang and I were running KOP, using our power to shape the city into a place that would attract offworld tourists and bring offworld money into our crippled economy. And even after Paul and I had lost our way and become nothing more than common thugs,
concerned only with extending our own power and wealth, she never accused me of being such. She was my wife, and she supported me no matter what. No matter how misguided I'd become.

Liz had all the wrappings off and piled like spaghetti. Three of my fingers had stayed properly splinted while my pinky had sprung loose, unnaturally poking out to the side.

“This one's causing all the trouble,” she said as she caressed it gently.

“Yeah. I'll have to get it set again.”

Suddenly, lightning quick, she grabbed hold of it and snapped it back in place.

I yelped and jerked back in my seat. “What the fuck!”

Liz gave me a coy smile, and I felt her foot in my crotch. I felt dizzy as the pain washed over me. I just about blacked out while her toes probed my privates.

“What the fuck?” I repeated.

Liz just smiled at me. Then she made a show of dropping a hand down under the table. She rolled her shoulder, making it clear that she was touching herself. She let out a small moan. I wanted to reach down, grab her foot, and twist her toes until the pain equaled mine. I was furious … and confused … and repulsed. …

But I was also hardening.

“You'll have to come by my place sometime,” she said. A second later, her foot was gone and a second after that, she was gone, walking back to the autopsy table and tickling both Ian and Horst's ears before taking a seat between them.

I took my time with the bandages, winding them back up, giving my erection time to do the opposite.

By the time I finished, Ian was back. “The files are decrypting as we speak.”

“Good.”