He synced up and copied the call record to the forensics tablet in his hand. “We can’t find the daughter. Any notion where she might have gone?”
“I came here as soon as I got the call. If she’s not here then I can’t tell you where she’d be.”
He grunted. “Well, she couldn’t have gotten far. We’re checking all transit points and security feeds. She’s bound to show up somewhere. I just hope it’s quickly. The Red-Eyed Killer doesn’t stop until the job’s finished.”
My heart pumped ice water. “Red-Eyed Killer?”
He nodded toward the corpses. “Didn’t you notice?”
I had tried not to look too hard, but I swallowed the bile in my throat and took another glance, trying to pretend that the bloody stiffs weren’t people that I knew and cared about. It was obvious then. Their eyes were completely red as if the pupils swelled with blood and boiled over. Crimson streaks ran down their cheeks in a mockery of tears.
“Special cocktail blended with hallucinogens that makes their worst nightmares come alive while their blood literally boils. Victims usually die from self-inflicted damage, but the Red-Eyed Killer also juices them with a tranquilizer so that they can simmer in agony while he goes to work with his… art.” He gestured to the macabre display.
I turned away. “I’ll let you know if the girl turns up.”
Graves grunted. “You’ll do better than that. I’m placing you under house arrest right now.”
My shoulders stiffened as if expecting a slug in the back. “What…? Under what charges?”
Graves waved a dismissive hand. “Who cares? You’re a problem, Mick. A man with your reputation will trample any investigation with your… methods. As a friend of the family, you’re the most likely suspect for the girl to turn to. We’ve already searched your apartment — she’s not there. But she might show up. I’m posting men at the doors and placing you in your room. If she pops up then we’ll nab her in protective custody.”
I trusted their protective custody about as much as I did fair play at an underground poker game. Everything about the scene stank of a cover-up. The brass wanted the case closed, and the air was practically perfumed with the stink of dirty money. I didn’t have much of a choice but to play along. Legal rights and procedure were for the high pillow types that had the cabbage to grease palms with.
I didn’t swim in those circles.
One of the button boys escorted me back to my apartment. A police drone floated in the hallway outside the door, along with an armed guard. I was stuck inside with a chest full of fire and a mind full of murderous thoughts. I couldn’t get the images outta my head. Luzzatti and his wife butchered like animals. The Red-Eyed Killer had enjoyed every scream, every second of the torture.
I paced the room, trying to ignore the feeling of being boxed in. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t figure out what I needed to do. I pounded the body bag until I was soaked through. Didn’t help. I downed a pint of Wild Turkey. Didn’t help. I dismantled the Mean Ol’ Broad, cleaned her up and put her back together.
That helped.
After that I showered. Carefully dressed in my best rags. By that I mean my clean ones. I shaved and removed the bandages from my face. Just as I figured, they were almost healed up. I holstered the Broad and tucked away a few surprises. Put the Bogart on my head and tilted it just right.
After that I stepped out the door and punched the guard right in the face.
As he tumbled, I whipped the Mean Ol’ Broad out and shot the drone down before it could fire a round. Didn’t matter. It had put the word out, and the button boys downstairs were no doubt on their way up. I kicked the guard in the temple to put him out for good. Then I ran to the Luzzatti’s apartment and slipped inside. The crime scene sensors blared, but I was way past the point of no return anyway.
The bodies had been removed, but the bloodstains were still there as grisly reminders. I paid no attention to that as I ran past and dropped down to where I’d seen Natasha open the hidden basement. I was pretty sure it was secured well enough to avoid detection by sensors like the brass used to sweep the place over. That was pretty much standard for anyone who stored their valuables. The button boys were handicapped by tech that fit in their budget, which wasn’t enough to afford the real darb detectors.
I pounded on the floor.
“Natasha! I know you’re down there. Open up. We gotta go!”
No answer. I heard commotion down the hallway.
“Dammit Natasha, the brass is on the way. I gotta get you outta here.”
Her quivery voice was barely audible. “Mick…?”
“Yeah, it’s me sweetheart. Open the door. Please.”
Someone grabbed the doorknob outside in the hallway. The shock ring I’d slipped around the inside knob activated, and I heard the scream as the copper got zinged by the sizzling arc. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before they blasted their way inside.
The basement door slip open, and Natasha leaped in my arms. She was a shivering, disheveled, tearstained mess.
“I heard them, Mick Trubble. I heard them… screaming. They… they wouldn’t stop. I didn’t even remember to hit your number until… until after…”
“Hey.” I placed my hand on her chin. “Don’t you dare think that this is your fault. You had nothing to do with this, understand?”
She dropped her eyes and nodded miserably. “Papa told me to lock myself in the basement as soon as he heard the knock. Mama… she was downstairs. She walked in… after…” Natasha’s eyes brimmed over. “I… I couldn’t do anything to help…”
I took her by the hand and went to the window. “I know. I know, sweetheart. Your Pa did the right thing by sending you down there. That’s all that matters. But it ain’t over. I gotta get you somewhere safe or you’ll be next.” I turned off the window’s laser bars and shot out the glass with the Mean Ol’ Broad. Then I turned to Natasha.
“I know you don’t think that you can do this, but you can. All you have to do is trust me. Do you trust me?”
She choked back a sob and nodded.
“All right. Let’s go.”
I helped her out to the fire escape and followed just when the gunfire erupted at the doorway. I heard the door fall inward from the barrage and the shouts of angry coppers. I took one last second to toss in the insurance to cover our escape. It was a flat, cylindered motion-activated explosive.
“Up you go, kid.”
We clambered up the escape as the explosive went off with a flash like daylight. I sure as hell didn’t wanna have dead coppers on my record, but I didn’t mind putting them on their backs for a minute. The explosive set off a stun charge while discharging a stinger cloud at the same time. The blast disoriented them, and a cloud of tiny machines discharged electronic chaff signals. They also attacked anything in the room with their metallic stingers. Any electronic surveillance in the area would have serious problems in a matter of seconds, and the button boys weren’t exactly comfortable either. Their frantic yells and shrieks followed us all the way to the rooftop.
That’s where I stashed my backup plan. I still didn’t own any wheels, but I did have a nice piece of contraband covered up on the roof. I yanked the canvas off of the hoversled. It was a bit beat up, but the Tesla fusion converters were in top shape. I’d got it as payment for a favor that I did in behalf of a mechanic friend with a list of bad clients. After I made my rounds, his clients were much better at paying their tabs. The bike was just an old model he tinkered on, but he got it juiced up well enough by the time he gave it to me.