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Authors: Warren Hammond

BOOK: Kop
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I spotted two Army uniforms looking lost on the far side. They stopped to ask for directions. I pulled Jimmy aside. “You want that filing job with KOP?”

Jimmy’s metal eyes reflected the lamplight. “Shit yeah! I’m gonna need a job.”

I pointed to the two mils coming this way. “You don’t tell them anything.”

“You got it, Juno.”

We walked down to the canal’s edge, startling a pair of monitors into a scramble for the water. We rinsed our feet in canal water that was slick with algae. We slipped our shoes on and found another skiff.

six

T
HERE
was no point in trying to get to the other members of Vlotsky’s unit. The mils would have them all under wraps by now. They could be efficient when they wanted to be.

The skiff took us out of Tenttown and we grabbed a cab to Vlotsky’s neighborhood—one of the nicer parts of town. No drug dealing or prostitution permitted here; this was one of the city’s safe zones—people around here voted. We rode with the windows down. The night air ran through my hair, drying the sweat on the back of my neck as well-to-do houses with manicured gardens ticked by.

The driver pulled into a driveway. I told him to wait for us. We ambled up the stone path, which had been freshly torched and was still dusty with blackened moss. Vlotsky’s house had carved wood columns on either side of the door and a glassed-in porch with a rooftop cooling unit to the left. A plaque by the door read “Neimenans.” I remembered how Rose had told us he’d just bought a new house. He must not have gotten around to changing out the plaque.

The door was opened by a heavy man in a freshly starched suit with bulk-minimizing vertical stripes. His face was a blank mask.

Maggie held up her badge. “Hello, I’m Detective Maggie Orzo, and this is Detective Juno Mozambe.”

“Yes, we’ve been expecting you. Please come this way.”

We trailed sooty footprints into the sitting room. Offworld
artwork hung on the walls—pasty-skinned nude women lying on settees and prim horsemen surrounded by hunting dogs. One of the paintings shifted from a group of Victorian women on a garden stroll to a foo-foo picnic scene with dainty ladies and jaunty chaps. The Vlotskys had expensive tastes—digital art wasn’t cheap. It worked off the same premise as Maggie’s digital paper, but added color and texture. Very expensive indeed.

Peter Vlotsky dropped his mass into an armchair and took up a sweaty drink in his meaty hand. Jelka Vlotsky sat with her legs crossed and didn’t get up to greet us. Her hair was pulled back, so taut that when you looked at her dead on, you couldn’t see her hair at all.

“We are so sorry for your loss,” I opened.

Mrs. Vlotsky met my eyes with an icy glare. “Where have you been? Our son was
murdered
this morning, and you waited until now to come?”

“Didn’t you get a call from the chief of detectives, Diego Banks?”

“Yes. He
called
to tell us our son was dead.”

“I know it’s hard to hear that kind of news over the phone. We’re sorry we couldn’t be here earlier, but we needed to wrap up the crime scene first. We have to gather the physical evidence while we can.”

“Are you telling me that the two of you are the only police officers in the entire Office of Police? Surely that must be the case, or you would have assigned other officers to that task while you came to tell me my son was dead.”

“I understand how you must feel at a time like this, but I want you to know that the Office of Police is giving your son’s case the highest priority. Chief Chang has taken a personal interest in this case, and he won’t rest until it’s solved.”

Mrs. Vlotsky turned away from me; she made no attempt to hide her contempt.

Mr. Vlotsky spun the ice around the inside of his glass and took a quick sip. “Please, Jelka. I’m sure they are doing the best they can.” Focusing his attention on us, he said, “What can we do for you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Ask us anything if it will help you catch this savage.”

“When was the last time you saw your son?”

Mrs. Vlotsky answered with a tone clipped as tightly as her hair. “Yesterday afternoon.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No.”

“Does your son have a girlfriend?”

“No, not currently.”

“Has he received any threats?”

“No.”

“Can you think of anybody who might want to hurt your son?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did he tell you about the other members of his unit?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you about the operations he’s been involved in?”

“No, that’s classified. He couldn’t talk about it.”

“Did he seem nervous or agitated yesterday?”

“No.”

“How about you, Mr. Vlotsky? Do you have anything to add?”

Peter Vlotsky looked lost in thought until my question brought him back to the conversation. “No, I’m afraid not. I wish I could be of more help.”

“I understand you work for the city?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What do you do?”

“I chair the board that issues business licenses.”

“And you, Mrs. Vlotsky?”

“I don’t work.”

“Does your son have a room here?”

“Yes. It’s upstairs.”

“Can we take a look around?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you’ll find anything.”

“Why’s that?”

“We just moved in two weeks ago. Most of his things are still boxed up. This was the first time Dmitri had been here. He didn’t bring much more than a bag.”

“Still, we’d like to check it out.”

I hit the lights. Geckos dashed under the floorboards.

Vlotsky’s room was sparse, nothing but an unmade bed and an Army-issue bag on the floor. Maggie looked at the bag tentatively. I nodded, as if to say, “Go for it.” She pulled the drawstring and dumped the contents on the bed. Mostly clothes. I searched the pockets—nothing but condoms and a matchbook.

I looked out the window and checked out the new car in the drive. New house, new car, offworld artwork…Mr. Vlotsky had another source of income. Nobody who worked for the city made that kind of scratch. I should know.

We hopped back into the cab and rode shoulder to shoulder.

The mils were going to make it red-tape tough to proceed on the investigation. They weren’t going to let us interview any soldiers until they figured out what was going on. They’d protect themselves first, and for once, they’d have good reason—Army officers high on O, POWs set free, an entire unit sicced on the enemy with sabotaged weapons and left for dead…

Lieutenant Vlotsky learned a lesson in that alley last night. If
you were going to set somebody up to die, you’d better make sure it worked. We had ten members of Unit 29 with a murder motive. Number one on my list was ringleader and ex-con Jhuko Kapasi.

“What now?” Maggie asked.

“We call it a day and start fresh in the morning.” I didn’t tell her about my banquet plans.

“Where do we start?” Maggie’s voice was flat. Her face was shadowed, but I could see the way her shoulders were slumped in fatigue.

“You’ve got a good nose for this; why don’t you tell me?”

She looked at me, searching my face, looking for a trace of sarcasm. I meant what I said. I hoped she could see that. It must’ve been too dark to read me since she answered cautiously. “I think we need to talk to Kapasi. He has to be our top suspect.”

I played the devil’s advocate. “But Jimmy Bushong told us that the whole unit wanted to kill Lieutenant Vlotsky.”

“Yes, but Jimmy also told us that most of them answered to Kapasi. If one of them did it, my guess is Kapasi put him up to it. It sounds like they don’t do anything without his say-so.”

“What do you think of the Vlotsky family?”

“Mrs. Vlotsky is a cold woman. How do you lose a son and not shed a single tear? Mr. Vlotsky is hard to read. He was very subdued.”

“I agree on both counts. Why do you think Mr. Vlotsky was so quiet?”

“I’m not sure. It could be he was in shock…or drunk. Maybe he’s just docile around his wife. She seems like the domineering type.”

“What do you think of their house?”

“I guess it’s okay.”

“The new car?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Do you think he can buy those things on a city salary?”

“I don’t know, maybe not. I guess I didn’t think about it.” Maggie Orzo’s rich-girl upbringing was coming through strong.

The cab dropped her at a hotel that had lizard statues guarding the entrance. She said she was staying there until she could find a place of her own, something about needing to get away from her mother. I didn’t ask her for details.

Since Private Jhuko Kapasi was from Loja, we made plans to meet at the north dock—early.

On the way home, I made a quick stop at the Lotus Club. I wanted to see if our peed-his-pants peeper was back in his erogenous zone. No luck. The perv was probably scared he’d be next to get his lips stripped.

seven

W
HEN
I finally got home, I keyed through the front gate into the courtyard. The fountain in its center was completely overgrown with greenery. I could hear just the slightest trickle of water muffled by the layers of foliage. Niki was the one who had wanted the fountain. I’d told her it was crazy to have a fountain on Lagarto. You might as well put a giant fucking petri dish in the courtyard.

I went through the front door. A voice came from the bedroom, “That you, Juno?”

“Yeah.” I went into the kitchen and cut some bread and cheese, trimming off the mold.

I heard her feet coming up behind me. I turned around to see her showing off her dress, red and heavy on the sequins. “What do you think?”

“I love it.” And I did. Her obsidian hair was pulled into an updo, leaving her brown shoulders bare except for the spaghetti straps holding up the dress. Just for the chance to see her like this, I should’ve agreed to go to the banquet long ago.

“I have your tux ready,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“So what’s this case about?”

“It’s just a case.”

“Is it the Army lieutenant?”

“Yeah. How do you know about that?”

“Jessie ran the story on the news. She and I were going to go
shopping this afternoon, but she canceled. Why is Paul so interested in this one?”

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“You have to tell him no.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Yes you can, Juno. Paul doesn’t own you. A few years ago, you told him you weren’t going to enforce for him anymore. Remember how crazy you were about that?”

“He needs my help.”

“Why?”

I took a bite of cheese. I didn’t want to talk about it.

She kept staring me down. “You promised me you wouldn’t do his dirty work anymore.”

I was instantly aggravated. “Give it a rest.”

She cranked up the intensity of her stare. “I will not give it a rest. We had an agreement.”

“This is different, Niki. He’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

“Paul is very capable of taking care of himself you know.”

“He wouldn’t ask for my help if he didn’t need it.”

“What’s so important about this case that he needs your help?”

“Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know.”

“Okay, so you don’t know. Can’t you just say that without getting so nasty?”

I could feel myself turning red. “Dammit, Nik, I
did
say it. Now can we just drop it?”

“Sure.” She turned away, sending a chill in my direction. She walked out, certain to make her footsteps louder than necessary.

I rolled my eyes. I knew I shouldn’t have been short with her, but we’d been having this same stupid argument since
I gave up enforcing. Whether it was a case or a bagman job for Paul, I’d tell her I had to do this. It was important. She’d come back with “you need to be home more,” “you’re getting too old,” “it’s too dangerous.” Eventually she’d hit me with “you promised you’d quit.” She was right of course, which is why I always got so sore.

I’d made the promise a few years ago. Back then, my drinking was out of control. I’d become an ugly drunk. It got so bad that Niki threatened to leave. That was when I promised her I’d quit KOP. And I’d truly meant it when I said it. I
was
going to quit.

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