“That won’t make up for you being an accomplice to a cop killing.”
“No, but I feel like shit enough for that. I let my friends die, and I can’t bear to run from it any longer. There’s a reason you found me, Roche. Because I needed and wanted to be found. Put me away, take the gold, and take him down. For them and for me.”
I looked at his face and saw that he was serious. Those wary eyes were also the eyes of a man with regrets he could no longer bury. He needed this case wrapped up as badly as Robins and I did.
“All right, I’ll take the gold, and get you put away for … accessory to racketeering and smuggling. Ten years, tops.”
“Sounds good. Great, even.” He stood up and followed me down the stairs, leaving his friend chained to the railing.
Belik hopped into the Rotorbird and sat down beside Allen.
“How did the talk go, boys? You good, metal man?” I asked.
“Yes, Elias.” It nodded at me. It was still odd, hearing it use my first name. I’d have to get used to that.”
“Take Belik here to the 5th for lock-up. Charge him as an accessory to racketeering. He didn’t set up the murder of our boys. Oh, and the guy up there — the 5th’s boys will get him later.”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Sinclair’s look of resentment diminish into one of mild irritation. Sinclair had been sure that Belik was the one who’d gunned down his fellow officers. But one glance at the man — along with my word — reassured him that Belik wasn’t a cop killer. Sinclair got into the cockpit and started the rotors.
Belik gave me the location of the Black Hat as he got belted in. The address was a few blocks south, on the border to the Meatpacking District, which gave me a bit of time to do some searching.
“Dismantle his little project and then get there. He’ll be waiting on the helipad for his ride up,” Belik said.
“When does he usually get picked up?” I asked.
“He’d often leave this place at six, so I guess around seven.”
“Roger.” I looked inside at Sinclair, who was preparing to lift off. “Send some squad cars from the 5th to set up a perimeter, keep Maranzano’s people from investigating.”
“Got a plan for this place?” Paddy asked.
“Yeah, it’ll be our tribute to her, a show of good faith.” Paddy nodded in response. “Also: Belik will give you an address. Be there at seven.”
He gave me a thumbs-up, and I stepped out onto the warehouse floor once again. Allen made a motion to follow me, but I put my hand up. “No need, Allen. I’ll handle this one. Did you find Toby?”
“Toby left the premises some time ago, with several useable parts.”
He’s a slippery bastard, all right. Good ol’ Toby, I thought.
“You just keep Belik safe and get him processed.”
“But, Detective, surely you need assistance in the investigation.”
“There’s no investigation this time,” I yelled over the noise of the rotors as they began to pick up.
Allen pulled the sliding door closed, and the Rotorbird ascended through the skylight into the dimming sky. My watch read five thirty. Looked as if things were going well for once — quite the opposite to how it had all started.
As I wandered through the carnage inflicted by the Auger, I was able to trace my path back to where Allen had fallen through the roof, and where the Swinger model had collapsed. Tracking the machine down took little effort; I had but to listen for the grunts of effort reverberating through the quiet building. I found it heavily damaged. There was a thick trail of green fluid oozing from the Automatic’s chem system, and its legs were barely functional. One arm hung useless, and there was a long gash in the metal on the side of its head where the bullet had grazed it.
I approached the Swinger bot and pushed it onto its front to inspect the back of its head. I’d been expecting to see the characters J4-35 engraved there, but instead saw TH-30.
“Fuck.”
It wasn’t him. Wasn’t it. It wasn’t James. James wasn’t the killer. I’d been so sure of it …
Or maybe I’d just been chasing a ghost again.
Good thing the capek was awake, though. I turned it over and pulled it up by the collar. Its red eyes were shimmering and blinking from the damage it had sustained.
“You pull the trigger, metal man?”
“Sure did.” Its eyes contorted to give a look of self-satisfaction. “Almost did it for free, too.”
“Bastard. How many cops have you killed for Masters?”
“Oh, I’ve killed many, trust me. Not for Masters, though. I’m no slave to a fucking Black Hat.” It struggled to grab my arm and laughed in my face. “It’s all for the greater good, right?”
Its eyes flickered from red to blue, making me panic and release it as its laugh echoed through the complex. The laugh was cut short by the sound of glass breaking and the shockwave of a rifle shot echoing through the building. The Red-eye’s Neural-Interface was strewn about the floor.
That answered that question: it had definitely not been a shell.
I raised the 1911 and pivoted around, but I had no idea where the bullet had come from. Whoever had killed the machine could easily have killed me, too.
One thing at a time, Roche, I told myself. First the Automatic, now the project.
The office portion of the warehouse was connected to the main complex by a door located on the main floor directly under the upstairs office where I had apprehended Belik. Like the warehouse itself, it was mostly empty. In contrast, though, there were myriad machines and computer parts jerry-rigged together.
There were ten or so Neural-Interfaces hooked in to one another in the office, with a central terminal controlling them all as coolant regulators and
