“Shit,” Bronte said. “What were they?”
“One was a violent mugging. The victim was beaten to death. We’re waiting on the autopsy results, but Grenville thinks the vic may have had neural devices stolen from him.”
“Just external devices?” Salvi asked. “Or linked to implants?”
Ford shrugged. “Waiting on the autopsy. The other death was the result of a fight that broke out between a doorman and patron trying to enter a club called Slackjaw. The doorman was stabbed.”
“Jesus…” Salvi said.
“This is only going to get worse,” Ford said. “We gotta stop that Fyte hitting the streets and figure out who’s behind it.”
Kara shrugged. “It has to be a turf war, right? When the rich were doing their Flyte in their secret clubs there were no problems, because it was kept to an elite few. Now someone reengineered it and let it out, all hell is breaking loose. I think those who have been killed had something to do with the drug leaking onto the streets, and whoever was involved in the original Flyte production is cleaning house before their secret gets dragged into the spotlight.”
“I’m concerned about the neural devices,” Salvi said. “Barker photographed someone on the Ceiling wearing them, and, when we found Myki Natashi at the crime scene, she had these indents at her temples like something had been pressed there into the skin.” She looked at Bronte. “The tech owner in the ‘Mission was murdered for no apparent reason.” She looked back to Ford. “Now Mitch thinks the guy last night was killed because neural devices were stolen from him.”
“Maybe that’s why they call this new drug an experience,” Noble said, the Cyber head finally speaking up. “Maybe that’s what makes it so special. It’s not just the drug use, but the drug used in cohesion with the neural tech.”
Subjugate-52 flashed into Salvi’s mind; the green glow upon his face, highlighting his neural device halo, which in turn picked up the flashing red of his personal alarm — the tech and the drugs used to control him.
“Food for thought,” Ford said, then gave a long exhale. “Alright, go rest up, then get ready to hit the club again. We’ll keep working the angles while you do.”
They moved to leave, but Ford caught Salvi’s arm to stop her. Salvi looked at her but saw she was waiting until the others left.
“What is it?” Salvi asked once they were alone.
“The new psych at the Solme Complex called again. He wishes to speak with you. He’s getting insistent.”
“Well, he’ll have to wait. I’m a little busy here.”
“That’s what I told him, but I too have better things to do than be a messenger for you, Brentt. So call the guy and get him off my back.”
Salvi sighed. “Alright. I will.”
Ford tapped her iPort, sending the information. “There, you got his number. If he calls me again, you’re gonna hear about it.”
“I’ll call him,” she reassured her.
Ford nodded and they moved for the door.
“How’s Grenville taking things?” Salvi asked.
Ford looked at her.
“Caine was his partner,” Salvi said quickly. “That’s gotta be hard to take.”
“Well you were with him that night, weren’t you? You saw how he took it.”
Salvi stared at Ford, who quickly held her hand up to stop Salvi from answering.
“I don’t care what you’re doing with Grenville, Brentt. Just keep your mind on your job. Alright? Both of you. Or you will get yourselves or someone else killed.”
Salvi watched Ford walk out the door, then slowly followed.
Salvi, exhausted, entered the apartment, with Bronte close behind. He headed straight for his bedroom and closed the door. Salvi made her way to her room, grabbed her iPort and lenses from the safe and moved to the bathroom. She took one look at herself in the mirror; the barely-there dress, the slightly smeared make-up, the tiredness that lingered in her eyes. She leaned on the bathroom sink and sighed. She wasn’t looking forward to having to do it all over again that evening.
She washed the makeup off her face, studied the practically faded scratches on her neck, then strapped on the iPort, popped her lenses in and the comms earpiece. She found the message from Ford and called the number, watching in the mirror as her lenses clouded a transparent silver as the call connected.
A man of East Asian origin stared back at her.
“Detective Brentt. Finally,” Doctor Fen said measuredly.
“I’m sorry for the delay,” she said a little sarcastically, “but I’ve had murders to solve.”
“Yes, well, I’m glad you’ve finally called me, because I have Subjugates to treat.”
“What do you want?”
“Well, first and foremost, I’d like to discuss Subjugate-52.”
“What about him?”
“What about him?” he sounded surprised.
“I take it he’s recovering from his gunshot wound?”
“Yes, physically he is fine. Emotionally, however, I believe he’s had a setback in his treatment. He’s essentially been left traumatized by what happened.”
“Getting shot can do that to a person.”
“I’m not talking about the gunshot. I’m talking about you, detective, and what you promised him.”
Salvi stared at Fen. “I’m sorry, what? What I promised him?”
Fen stared at her. “You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?”
“Enlighten me, but make it quick,” she said, the tiredness smacking at her.
“You promised Subjugate-52 he would become a Serene. You said that you would ensure he would become a Serene if he helped you. He helped you, and now he wants to know why he hasn’t transitioned to a Serene yet.”
“Well, you’re the authority on that. Why hasn’t he become a Serene? Is it because he was a violent serial killer rapist who was supposed to be put to death because his crimes were so heinous, and maybe that’s gonna take a little work to fix?”
“He’s not that person anymore,” Fen said patiently.
“Then why hasn’t he transitioned yet?”
“Because,” Fen said, staring at her in all seriousness, “you encouraged him to find his violence again. We buried it deep inside
