“Swingers?” Jaeger rubbed the back of his head, thinking. “That’s an old model. There aren’t many left in the city … But I have done work on a few.”
“Any with the designation J4-35?”
“I’ll have to consult my logs. I’ll let you know.”
“Excellent. One last question: I know this is new for you, but can an Automatic run without an NI installed? Like how a chicken with its head cut off can run around for quite some time before it dies?”
“Machines are not comparable to chickens, Detective. By all accounts, it is quite impossible. But I’ll try to formulate some idea as to how it might happen. Removing a Neural-Interface is a challenging task. It can be done in about a week with finesse and patience, but it’s traumatic.”
I popped an eyebrow up. “For you?”
“For the machine. Imagine having your brain ripped out while you’re awake for the entire procedure. They might be metal, but they have personalities, too. I hope, wherever Rudi is — if his Neural-Interface was indeed removed — that he is all right.”
“I’ll be seeing you. Have a good night, Karl.”
With that, I left the establishment and returned to the car. The machine was sitting in the passenger seat. Any other cop who’d come to investigate would’ve booked Jaeger, case closed. If I’d come alone, there would’ve been a corpse.
But the robot had been able to look past the facade. It seemed that Jaeger was being set up as the perfect patsy to mislead us from the truth. That made things easy and hard at the same time: longer case, but one less major suspect on the watch list. The tin man seemed as exasperated as I was, which was off-putting. Was it seriously feeling drained, or was it mocking me?
“You did good there. You have one hell of an eye,” I said, breaking the tension and grinning.
“I go out of my way to notice things others would miss. The smallest things are often the most telling in an investigation.”
I smiled again, amused. “Before we go anywhere, we’ve got to settle something. I’m not calling you Forty-One-Echo-bullshit. You need a name.”
“Will that make our investigation easier?”
“Yes. A lot of Automatics have human names. It helps in the public eye.”
“Well, what should it be? I’m not sure what kind of name would fit me.”
I mulled over it for a while. Hmm … Forty-One-Echo-November, or 41-EN. The numeral 4 looked like an A, and 1 looked like an L.
“How about Allen?”
The tin man thought about it. “Allen Erzly.”
“Erzly?”
“I’m based off of the Erzly model, which was a restoration of the old Swinger model from the Great War. Allen Erzly would be my full name, as humans put it.”
“All right. I can roll with that.”
The old Swinger model … could my old partner, James, have been slotted into a new model? I’d come back later, once Jaeger had something substantial, but right now, we had three cops to question.
Allen reclined in its seat, and I brought the engine to life and headed out to continue our investigation. Yeah, Allen was a much better name than some string of numbers and letters. Still, you get attached to things when you name them.
I shouldn’t make that mistake again.
CHAPTER 6
“I’D CALL THE BOTH OF YOU blundering fucking idiots, but that’d be too generous.”
Robins had a way with words, and since our arrival at his office, he had shown us how creative he could be. I remained quiet and allowed him to continue. “You’re goddamn lucky that GE’s security called me and not someone like Viessman at the 7th. We are trying to keep this case from the public, not throw it in their goddamn faces!”
The metal man and I had already worked out how we’d discuss our discoveries with Robins. Now Allen took the stage. “Sir, we have uncovered new developments in the case. We tracked the serial number of the Automatic …”
“I can’t be bothered with what you did or how you did it.” Robins turned away from us and stared out the window — at that damn fountain, again. “Just tell me you know who killed those cops.”
“We have a lead, but I’m afraid the circumstances won’t give us much legroom, as the evidence was meant to mislead us,” Allen explained. “Two of the deceased officers were connected to a case which led to the conviction of our previous prime suspect. Therefore, we must assume that the three other members involved in that case must have some connection to these events.”
Robins’s hands twitched. I could tell his worst fears were realized. I’d have hated to be the one to tell him. He turned and, with eyes downcast, slumped into his chair. “Goddamn it. So if someone else catches wind of this and digs deeper, we’re shafted. Is working here that terrible that my own boys need to turn their guns against one another?”
“Terrible pay, horrible hours, and constant threat of getting a bullet in the head aside, this precinct is one of the best work environments I’ve ever been in.”
Robins snickered. Even a little humour helped.
“Well, it’s only a lead so far. There’s a chance that this can be a misunderstanding, or a scheme to frame cops. It’s a slim chance, and I know that maybe not all my men are clean … but they should know better than to shoot down people they trained and worked beside for years.”
“You’d hope so. But everything is up in the air until we find out what the truth is. So … regular pay times two. Call it cop-killer pay.”
“Times two? What do you need with five thousand bucks? The precinct isn’t made of money, Roche. I barely have enough to buy a new piece for anyone who asks for a position here.”
“Pay?” Allen piped up. But I kept
