I knew what he was probably thinking: What the actual fuck did you do, Roche?
“Not used to seeing blood, Jeffrey?”
“N-no.” He stood erect, trying to avoid her eyes. “Christ, who would do this?”
“I thought you might know.”
“Of course I don’t. I would never condone something like this!”
“Perhaps I was wrong. Old habits, you know.” She grabbed the folder and handed it back to her associate. “The body was about two weeks old when we found it, which puts time of death at about the same time those inspections were being conducted and Masters supposedly went AWOL. We’re still trying to figure out which police Rotorbird was the one that prevented the other pilot from landing, so I wanted to come down here and inspect yours personally. I hope that’s all right with you, Jeffrey.”
“Yeah, okay, of course. Jesus.”
I’d never seen Robins so shocked before. He’d seen his buddies die in the Great War, and he barely blinked when talking about his own service. He’d seen cop killings, perps torn apart by machine gun fire, and Suppression Rifle shots. That meant that what I’d done was worse than all that, which was hard to believe.
Had I gone too far this time?
She looked Robins up and down for several moments. An uneasy silence followed as he regained his composure, only to be crushed by her gaze.
“You look like you’ve been under a lot of stress. You look older than usual …”
Robins didn’t respond. Was he subdued by her, or by what he’d seen in those pictures?
She was turning to leave when she caught sight of me. I doubted it was a pleasant surprise. Her eyes narrowed, and she walked over. I hadn’t believed there was anyone out there scarier than the Eye, but it seemed I was wrong. “Sergeant Roche, I thought you left the Force back in ’28. I’m surprised to see you here.”
“A lot of surprises have been happening recently. What’s one more?”
“This is one too many. And maybe not so much a surprise as an ill-timed coincidence.” She looked me over.
My legs were trembling, and I felt my heart racing. She had a soul-crushing presence, a stare that could burn through steel. She grabbed my vest with her left hand and peeled it back to reveal the silver handle of my revolver. “A Diamondback. I’d ask you for a permit, but we both know it’s illegal, don’t we, Mister Roche?”
“To be completely accurate, it is illegal, but in the hands of a registered police officer,” Allen said, coming over to join us. “The guidelines state that an officer may carry and use any handheld firearm as long as its calibre does not exceed a .45-inch diameter.” Had it been monitoring the situation the entire time? Whatever it was doing, it had better tread carefully.
The woman raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Well, well, well,” she said, “a Blue-eye in the 5th. Well done, robot. But I’m afraid that guideline was removed from the police handbook in 1929, after he left. I don’t suppose that the handbook also covers officers in possession of powerful war relics?”
Allen remained quiet, looking at me as if asking for assistance. I shook my head. It turned back to her and said confidently, “No, ma’am, though I can vouch for Detective Roche’s efficacy and restraint. I believe your argument is based upon surface concepts alone, not evidence and circumstantial observation.”
“Detective Roche, is it?” She turned to me, cocking an eyebrow. “High praise for one lower than a gun for hire. And you.” She turned back to Allen. “Do not counter-argue me, machine. You’ve got some balls.”
“I believe I am allowed to make a valid point to refute your claims and support my partner against your accusations —”
“Allen!” I barked.
It stopped talking.
Her eyes had narrowed upon Allen’s referring to me as its “partner.” Maybe I could still surprise people.
She turned back to the commissioner. “Where is your bird, Jeffrey?”
“It’s out. Patrolling,” he stammered.
“Uh-huh. We’ll be back later, then. Have a good evening, gentlemen. If anything else comes up, do inform me. I’ll be in touch. You can be sure of that.”
Allen and I walked over to the door to watch as she and her cronies hopped into a Bugatti Type 41 Royale and roared off. How she’d gotten her hands on that kind of vehicle was beyond me.
The general hubbub of the station began to return to normal, but the three of us — Robins, Sinclair, and I — just stood there silently, staring at Allen. I doubted it had any idea to whom it had been speaking
Sinclair was the only one of us who’d kept his lips sealed from the moment she’d entered the station. If only the rest of us had followed his lead.
Suddenly Robins let out a sort of growl, and before I knew it, he had me up against the wall, his hand grasping my collar. “Jesus H. Fuck, Roche! You did that to the perp? No, not just a perp, an agent! He looked like a cracked egg! How did you think this would go down? Did you not think that she might show up?”
“Well …” I fumbled for words and looked around, feeling caught in a corner yet again. “I had to set an example, right? No mercy for cop killers, no matter who they are.”
“But an agent? This time it really does matter who you killed, and how. Fuck, Roche, I knew you were reckless, but this …”
“At least you didn’t know about it, which made it that much more convincing when you denied any involvement.”
“Do you feel nothing about this?” he shouted. “Not just for putting us in danger, but for this kind of violence? Nothing?”
It was the first time in a long time that I wasn’t able to answer a question. On the one hand, sure, I had gone overboard by splitting him open with a pipe. These days, the smell of blood made my stomach churn more than it had used to. But on
