Metal Fatigue (29 page)

Roads left the room breathing heavily through his nose. Only when the door was safely slammed behind him, did he dare vent his frustration by hitting a wall.

"
Fuck
it."

Michael hid behind the reception desk as he stormed past to the elevator, nursing his fist.

On the way down, he opened the cyberlink to Barney.

"Meet me in my office, pronto."

"What's the matter? Didn't it go well?" The concern in her voice was obvious, even through the subvocal transmission. "What happened, Phil?"

"They took me off the case —
that's
what happened. And if DeKurzak gets his way I'll be up before a Humanity Court this time next week. The sonofabitch shafted me."

"Christ. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He ignored Marion's cheerful hello when he reached his floor and headed straight for his office. Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he emptied out the net of contact electrodes and put it in his pocket. When he turned to the terminal to transfer his files onto data fiche, he noticed that it had already been activated.

The screen displayed an excerpt from the Mayor's letter, a single paragraph with one sentence highlighted:

"Acting on reports submitted by both Antoni DeKurzak and Captain O'Dell, I have no choice but to recommend that Senior Officer Roads be suspended from duty until such time as his circumstances can be adequately re-evaluated."

Roads stared at the screen.

...
and Captain O'Dell
...

He collapsed into the chair and rubbed at his brow. The message was obviously from Chappel; she was the only one with both the authority to override his terminal and access to the Mayor's memo. The question was whether she had intended it as a warning to be discovered prior to the event or as an explanation afterward. Either way, she'd truly had no choice. In the face of
two
negative reports, not just DeKurzak's, any action apart from suspending him would definitely have put her in the firing line with him. Kennedy law imposed the same penalties on both the biomodified and the people who harboured them.

Barney stormed in, her lips pursed with anger. "That fucking little low-life. What's he playing at?"

Roads looked up. "Hi, Barney. Thanks for coming."

"What choice did I have? We have to do something about this, before it's too late."

"There's nothing we
can
do. I'm out, and Martin's in. It's as simple as that."

"But what about DeKurzak? He's going to get all the credit for finding Cati!"

"Maybe. I don't know. As far as he's concerned, Cati's just a myth."

"What? But it makes
sense
— "

"He thinks I'm involved, that I'm trying to cover up."

"Of all the ..." Barney gesticulated her frustration, lost for words.

Roads understood the way she was feeling. "DeKurzak wants three things: one, to discredit me to make himself look better; two, to set me up to take the fall for either the Mole or the killer, or both; and three, to weaken RSD's hold on law enforcement in Kennedy. The last in particular. I wouldn't be surprised if that's been his mission for the MSA all along: to infiltrate us, and thereby catch us with our pants down." He switched off the terminal with a flick of his finger. "He was out to get me before I even walked in the door, despite what he said yesterday. And I can't fight him. Not when he has everything on his side."

"But you can't just give up either."

"I'm not going to. The Reunited States' convoy arrives in four hours. If Cati strikes again, it'll be tonight for sure, before the treaty's signed. And he'll be after big game, this time — bigger than the Mayoralty."

"The General?" Her eyes grew wide as she realised what he meant. "Cati's going to assassinate
General Stedman
?"

"With Stedman out of the way, the balance might swing in favour of the conservatives."

"Oh my God. I hadn't thought — "

A knock at the open door cut her off. Both of them turned to face Martin O'Dell.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," he said. The RUSAMC captain hovered in the doorway, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I just came by to say I'm sorry. I had no choice."

Roads pretended to be busy clearing his desk. Barney looked from one to the other, clearly sensing the tension between them.

"If it makes any difference," continued O'Dell undeterred, "I only wanted the case, not the inquiry into your conduct. I'd like you to know that if worse comes to worst you're welcome in Philadelphia. You don't have to stay here. Quite apart from your past involvement, we can always use good people, and there's certainly more opportunity back home to — "

"Thanks, Martin. You can spare me the campaign speech."

O'Dell looked pained. "I'm only trying to do my job, okay?"

"I know." Roads looked up. "But what the hell
is
your job, exactly? You're a soldier, not a cop."

"I'm both." O'Dell hesitated in the doorway. "I have my orders. Remember that, if nothing else."

"How can I forget?"

The RUSAMC captain left. Roads sighed and put his hands on the desk, tired of petty politics getting in the way of the things he had to do.

Barney came to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "You can go back to my place, if you want to."

"No. I haven't got time." He squeezed her hand, grateful for her sympathy even as he rejected it. "I need two favours."

"Anything."

"Are you sure?" Roads looked her in the eye. "I can't go to Margaret for this — or anything — while RSD is at risk. But I don't want to drag
you
down instead."

"If I was worried about that, would I be here now?" Barney returned his stare. "Tell me what you want, and I'll see what I can do."

"A bike, first of all, if you can get hold of one; and a schedule for the next twenty-four hours. Security plans of Mayor's House would be good, but I don't want to push my luck."

She leaned away. "You're going after Cati, aren't you?"

"I have to. If we're right and he is the killer, then someone has to stop him."

"Unarmed?" Her eyes were filled with concern. "Don't, Phil, please. I can talk DeKurzak into it."

"He won't have the time to listen to you until tomorrow — and by then it'll be too late."

"But Margaret — "

"It has to be me. I'm sorry."

She put her head on his shoulder. "You stupid sonofabitch."

"Senile, actually. I'll be ninety-five next month."

Barney pulled a face. "Don't put it that way. It sounds so — "

"Old? That's exactly how I feel when I look at O'Dell and DeKurzak."

"No.
Serious
." Her hands tightened. "But remind me to throw you a party, if you're still around."

"Thanks," he said. "I think I'll need it."

12:30 p.m.

The threat of rain had passed by the time Roads managed to escape HQ on a bicycle Barney had borrowed from the RSD pool. The streets and sidewalks of the inner suburbs were busy with people.

General Stedman's convoy was still some hours away, but the reclamation and reprocessing factories had already shut down. Regardless of political persuasion — for, against, or even indifferent — everyone in Kennedy Polis seemed to be taking advantage of the first public holiday in over a year. Parties had begun in parks, Rosette stations, and little-used intersections. Bands played on roof gardens, sending snatches of melody aloft on the wind. The smell of freshly-cooked food drifted at random through the streets.

There was always a sense of guilty pleasure in taking time off, however. The struggle to maintain viability had been so long and desperate during the Dissolution that an egalitarian lifestyle and obsessive work ethic had become indelible parts of the city's culture.
Not working
had connotations far worse than simple laziness: it hurt everyone in the long-run.

A measure of anti-Reassimilation sentiment found its source in this guilt — as though a slight lapse in concentration on internal issues would result in the collapse of the fragile bubble that was Kennedy. Roads could understand that, and even felt a measure of it himself: old habits, forged when survival seemed most unlikely, were always the hardest to break. The fight for the city was won on many levels, not just by keeping possible threats Outside.

A splash of red, white and blue caught Roads' eye, distracting him temporarily from his thoughts. One daring person had unearthed an old flag and raised it above a converted post office. The Stars and Stripes, for so long forbidden, was an unusual sight, and an evocative one.

As he furiously pedalled along the streets, Roads wondered whether the flag was a gesture of celebration or of warning. Was the arrival of the RUSAMC a threat or an opportunity? Only time would tell.

Of only one thing was he completely certain: that Cati's controller would strike again. Anyone so anti-Reassimilation as to kill in the past would not stop once Stedman was in the city. And what more tempting target could there possibly be? Certainly far more relevant than Councillors or aides who had supported the bill before it became reality.

He steered the bike past a pile of recently fallen masonry that had spilled onto the road, and called up the PolNet systems. The menus reappeared superimposed upon the street ahead, like neon hallucinations more real than reality itself. He searched through them, found the access number he was after, and dialled.

Morrow's bodiless head appeared in the depths of his vision, always a fixed distance ahead of him.

"No image," said the Head, "and a simulated voice. This can only mean one thing."

"That's right." Roads smiled despite himself. "I've succumbed to temptation."

"Good for you, Phil. It was only a matter of time. Welcome back to the electronic fold, my boy, where you belong."

"Not by choice, I'm afraid."

"Shame." Morrow sniffed. "Please bear in mind that I'm here when you need me. If you take the fall, I'll be there to catch you. DeKurzak doesn't frighten me in the slightest."

"How much do you know about that?"

"Probably more than you."

"I hope so. I was set up and I want to know why."

"Start asking questions, then, and I'll tell what I can."

"Right, the assassination first. Who hired Danny Chong, and why?"

"Pass." Morrow's face displayed sincere regret.

"Okay. Where did Chong get the explosives, then? I haven't seen anything that powerful in twenty years."

"From me, of course. You should have known."

"I guessed, but needed to know for sure. That makes them imports. From the same place as the EPA44210s? The Reunited States?"

"Perhaps. Do change the subject, dear boy."

Roads pedalled steadily onward, glad that one guess had proved correct. "Back to DeKurzak. What can you tell me about him?"

"He's an orphan, like your assistant. Both his parents were killed by a berserker in '57."

"Interesting, Keith, but hardly relevant."

"Perhaps not. He's certainly driven by something, and regarded as a golden boy by his allies. He worked his way up the MSA in record time while Packard was head. If he continues at this rate, he'll be running the entire city within a couple of decades."

"Is that fast enough, do you think?"

"Not for him, certainly. For me, I could wait forever."

"What do you know about his analysis of Blindeye, and the Mole?"

"Only what he's told the Mayor in his report. He wants you strung up as an example, just in case any more of the Old Guard think of trying anything silly." Morrow tut-tutted. "The boy is paranoid, but quite sincere, it would seem. And he makes a convincing case. The Mayor seems quite won over by his enthusiasm, even though the Mayor himself would be a possible suspect."

"I know. O'Dell, too? Does he agree with DeKurzak?"

"Doubtful. His report carefully avoids the matter, as though he is trying not to commit himself. His only recommendation is that he should take over the Mole case in place of you, and his reasoning there is inconclusive."

"Did he mention my biomods?"

"No."

Roads paused while he took a corner, pondering DeKurzak's actions. The recent change in the MSA was at the core of them, he was sure. As the necessity to maintain external vigilance had gradually ebbed, so too had the number of people required to patrol the Wall. The active staff numbers of the MSA had therefore atrophied, with personnel drifting into other areas such as security and administration. Still, a position in the MSA automatically commanded respect and admiration, out of respect for the organisation's past. To be part of the MSA meant that one was actively involved in the defence of the city, unlike RSD, which defended the city from itself.

Reassimilation, however, would nullify the reason for the existence of the MSA, and increase the need for internal policing. DeKurzak's actions made more sense when this was taken into account: by breaking up RSD and absorbing the pieces, he could give the MSA an entirely new portfolio, and thus a reason to exist.

O'Dell's motives, however, were far from clear.

The streets became less crowded the further Roads went from the city centre. Patriot Bridge appeared briefly from behind a building, then vanished again. He consulted a street map in the RSD datapool and realised that he was closer to his destination than he had thought.

"One more question, Keith. I'm trying to track down an old CATI soldier. It looks like one made it to Kennedy during the Dissolution and is now being used by whoever wants to derail the Reassimilation. Do you know anything about him, or where he might be hiding?"

"'It', you mean." Morrow's face remained stonily blank. "I took the liberty of browsing through the files of your lovely assistant last night, and learned of your discovery that way. It seems obvious to me that the Mole is entirely unconnected with this CATI operative. You should return to your original search immediately. You'll be wasting your time, otherwise."

Roads detected more than a faint warning in the Head's tone of voice, but ignored it. "I don't think so. There's a connection here somewhere. All I have to do is find it."