“And Ashton, here, being an excellent detective, came up with some things for us to chase that we didn’t have, before,” Demetrius explained.
“Oh. So you need him. Well…” Brand pondered for long moments, eyeing Ashton thoughtfully. “Okay, do what you need to do. Just be careful. All of you. Sounded to me like that old enemy was perfectly willing to take all of you out, if he could.”
“Probably,” Gorski agreed. “But us two old dogs plan to stick close, and we’re no slouches, with weapons or without. We’ll keep him in the background and defend him ourselves if need be.”
“Good. Let me pad this, get his nanites rolling, and a few scripts filled – including something for pain, to tide you over a day or two – and then you can get dressed, Detective Ashton.”
Roger finally made it back to his apartment and his girlfriend, but she wasn’t alone.
“Oh! Thank God! Stash! Help me. I got shot. That Carter guy nailed me. I’m hurt bad,” Roger murmured, closing the door and sinking down to the floor. “Can you get me some medical help? I need to get the bullet out and get patched up…”
“Sure, Rog, I’ll help,” Gorecki said.
He pulled an airgun and shot Roger point-blank in the chest. He collapsed.
Roger gasped, and stared up at Gorecki in horror, until his eyes glazed and his head dropped to the floor. His body sagged as a puddle of blood formed beneath it. His pulse, just visible in the hollow of his throat, slowed, then stopped.
“OHMIGAW! YOU KILLED HIM!” the girlfriend shrieked. “You said you were his friend! His boss!”
“I was,” Gorecki said, calm. “Shut up.”
He turned and put two more rounds into the girlfriend, who screamed in pain and fear, then toppled to the sofa, bleeding out.
Gorecki watched until she was dead, as well.
Then he turned and left the apartment, locking it behind him.
When the IPD investigated the double shooting later that day, they pronounced it a murder-suicide, despite the lack of a weapon.
The trio left the Imperial University Hospital via the maintenance passages, hopscotching from building to building and staying well out of sight, until they were back at the Imperial City Police headquarters. Most of the team was waiting, including Peterson. Ames ran to Ashton.
“Oh dear Lord! Nick, are you okay, honey?” Cally asked, anxious. She reached for him, but then froze, and pulled back, uncertain about where he had been hit.
“I’m fine, Cal,” he murmured soothingly, laying one hand lightly on his chest, where he had been hit, and the other hand on her shoulder. “I got a few good bruises here, but no busted ribs, and no internal injuries. I was wearing my body armor.”
“Wish we could armor your damn head,” Peterson grumbled from the corner.
“That might be possible, actually, but he’d have to wear a wig, and he would still have a concussion if he got shot,” Mott decided, thinking.
“That’s better than dead, I guess,” Ashton said with a wince. “Let’s think about it and see what’s the best we can come up with.”
“That works,” Mott agreed.
“Maia, have you heard from Lee?” Gorski asked then.
“No, not since I left for work this morning; why?”
“Ping him and make sure he’s okay. This shooter took Nick down first, then zeroed in on me. I suspect, due to the relative ages, he thought I was Carter.”
“Right,” Peterson said. Her expression blanked momentarily, then she came back. “He’s okay. He’s been at home all day. I told him what happened, and he said he’d lay low.”
“Good,” Gorski averred. “Nick, you and Cally gonna be okay, there?”
Ashton gave Ames a concerned glance. She slapped on a wobbly smile, opened her mouth to speak…and nothing came out. So she nodded instead, and Ashton said, “Yeah, we’ll be all right, Stefan. Listen, you and Inspector Demetrius…thanks. You two saved my ass today, and I won’t forget it. That round knocked the breath right out of me, and if you two hadn’t been there, I have no doubt I’d be dead now.”
Cally paled, but stood firm beside Nick. She took his hand in hers, then faced the two older men.
“That goes for me, too,” she said in a soft, hoarse voice. “Thank you.”
Demetrius and Gorski nodded, tight-lipped. Peterson, who watched the whole exchange in silence, stepped forward.
“Let’s go on through to the bullpen and see what we can coordinate on the Sandman,” she suggested.
“It’s a plan,” Ashton agreed.
Background Work
“…So what have you guys found while we’ve been ducking and dodging?” Gorski asked, when the trio entered the bullpen back at ICPD headquarters, followed by the others.
“Nuthin’,” Compton grumbled. “Not anything that would be useful, anyway.”
“Mm. Well, let us help, maybe,” Demetrius offered. “Perhaps Stefan and I can bring our experience to the matter. Are you game, Stefan?”
“Sure, Gene. It’s gonna take an hour or so before the puff testers get here, so we got time to kill.”
“Puff testers?” Weyand wondered.
“Yeah, Nick had an idea, and it was a good one...”
While Gorski and Demetrius explained Ashton’s idea to the others, Ames signaled Nick from her desk, and he moved unobtrusively to her side.
“Hey, Nick?” she murmured. “I...I got something, here, and I’m not sure what to make of it. I only just found it when word came in you’d got shot. I wanted to run it by you, see what you thought, before I threw it out for public consumption. Especially, now, in front of the detective and inspector. But…are you up to it? I mean, damn, honey, you…I…”
“I’m fine, Cal. I swear I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“Doc said and everything. And she has my nanites workin’ away, and I got meds and the whole bit.”
“Oh! Are you loopy?”
