Chapter 5

Grace knew that if she didn’t open the door, the cops would break it down. She considered heading out the bedroom window and down the fire escape, but figured they would have that exit covered. Meanwhile, the attempt to escape would make things much worse for herself.

“Open up or we’ll break the door down!”

Grace unlocked the door, still gripping her weapon tightly. “Come in!” she yelled, standing back and ready to fire.

She didn’t recognize the two cops who had come for her, but then again it had been almost seventy years, so that wasn’t unexpected. They both had their weapons drawn and seemed unsurprised to see hers trained on them.

“Grace Harper, lower your weapon.”

“Am I under arrest?” Are you going to kill me when I lower my weapon? It was what she really wanted to ask, but could not.

“You have my word that we will not kill you if you lower your weapon and come with us.”

Grace eyed the speaker warily. He was the smaller of the two, but he was still over six feet tall and at least two hundred pounds. “Why should I trust you?”

“You also have my word that if you do not lower your weapon by the count of three, I will be forced to fire.

“One…”

Grace considered her odds. She could shoot him before he reached three, but the other cop would shoot her before she could turn her gun on him.

“Two…”

Even if she did survive this, the police department would no longer be all right with their “live and let live” approach.

Grace lowered her weapon and shoved it in her holster.

“Good choice.”

The other cop took her sidearm and then patted her down, searching for other weapons that weren’t there. She didn’t conceal her weapons. They only served as a deterrent if people knew she had them.

“She’s clean,” the searcher said. “Let’s take her in.”

They led her out her front door, down the stairs, and to a waiting hovercar surrounded by curious passers-by and several residents of the alley outside her apartment building. Unfortunately, they recognized her, which probably meant they’d try to break into her apartment while she was away. Not that she’d need any of her stuff if she died.

If we ever cross paths again…

He had meant it, but his officers hadn’t shot her on sight so maybe she had a chance. Maybe this had nothing to do with The Establishment or Matt Stanton.

Yeah, right. And maybe they’d give back her badge and set her to work on her old beat.

“What’s this about?” Grace asked the two cops in the front seat.

“No questions,” said the driver–the one who had done most of the talking so far. The other one had his grubby fat fingers on Grace’s weapon.

Grace settled back and watched the buildings fly by as they made their way to the downtown police department. She hadn’t been in a hovercar since she left the force. Normal people just couldn’t afford them. Most of the cars in the air either belonged to the police force or a few very rich people.

The police department hadn’t changed in seventy years, at least not from the sky. The last time she had landed there, she had been in cuffs. They hadn’t cuffed her this time, but she didn’t let that get her hopes up.

From the landing pad, they took the elevator down to the twentieth story, where Captain Flint’s office was–or at least, where it had been seventy years ago. As soon as the doors dinged open on the twentieth floor, they headed along the long corridor to the captain’s office.

It all looked the same. Exactly the same. From the late twenty-third century wallpaper to the stains that had been there since two officers by the name of Greene and Yale had fought in the corridor and thrown hot coffee at one another.

One of the cops pressed the buzzer by the door. A moment later, Grace heard a click, and the door swung open. The two cops pushed her inside.

Captain Flint sat behind his desk, arms resting atop its smooth, uncluttered surface, his eyes locked on Grace’s. “Leave us,” he ordered the cops, who immediately obeyed.

A profound silence echoed through the room. Grace became aware of her heart pounding and wondered if Flint could hear it from behind his desk.

“It’s been a long time,” Flint said, finally.

Not long enough. “Yeah.”

“Did you give my officers any trouble?” Flint asked.

“What do you think?”

“Sit down.” Flint waved at the chair on the other side of the desk.

Grace stared at it, half expecting it to explode if she put any pressure on the seat. She sat lightly, keeping most of her weight on her feet.

“You said you’d kill me if we ever crossed paths again,” Grace reminded him.

“So I did, and by all accounts I should. I helped you out, got you started in P.I. work, and how do you repay me? By taking a meeting with the richest man in Kansas City.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grace lied.

“Skip it. We’ve been helping The Establishment track Matt Stanton’s moves ever since his father’s murder.”

“Why?” Grace knew the answer, but she wanted to hear Flint say it.

“Because we think he killed his father.”

“So what if he did? Don’t you have bigger things to worry about, like Sewer Rats or an army at the city’s northern gate?” She would have been more worried about those things, but she and the police department had never seen eye to eye on priorities.

“It’s just raiders. Edgers is still securing Chicago.” Flint closed his eyes and rubbed at them for a moment. “Believe it or not, The Establishment is more worried about their own kids than about all the rebels and vagrants in the streets, no matter how many bombs go off. They’ve got enough security around their fortresses to keep out anything the riff raff can afford to do to them, but their own kids…Well, you can imagine. It’s a potential eternity before their kids get to inherit anything and some of them want to push the date up.”

My heart bleeds. Aloud she said, “Maybe they should stop having kids.”

“That’s their business,” Flint said. “Mine is to find out whether Matt Stanton killed his father and hang him out to dry in front of The Establishment if he did. Really, they’ve already decided he’s guilty, and I pretty much agree. We’re just looking for evidence and when we find it, things won’t be pretty for Matt or for anyone who’s associated with him.”

“Did you bring me here to warn me off?”

“Just the opposite,” Flint said. “I brought you here to give you a chance to repay your debt to The Establishment.”

This didn’t sound good. She hadn’t thought to worry about daddy’s murder after Matt told her what he really wanted from her, but apparently she should have. “I didn’t know I owed them anything,” Grace said, stalling for time.

“You’ll be off the blacklist.”

“Hasn’t affected me that much.” That was kind of a lie. She could make more money if she could openly take on business clients such as Matt Stanton, possibly build up a nest egg against future dry spells, but so far she had remained afloat with her private client list.

“Look, Grace. This isn’t a choice. You do it and, if you survive, you’re back in The Establishment’s good graces. You don’t and you’re on their hit list. It’s one or the other.”

“Gee, let me think…”

“I knew you’d see reason.” Flint stood and walked over to his bar where he kept sodas, fruit juice, and bottled water. He grabbed a cold bottle of water and handed it to Grace. “Still drink this, right?”

“Yeah.” Grace took it, but did not open it. She was still trying to figure out how she could possibly salvage this situation. The one small blessing was they hadn’t discovered what Matt had hired her to do. They only knew she’d taken the meeting.

She couldn’t turn her investigation around on Matt. That would betray a confidence, even if she did privately agree he probably had killed his father. A few hours ago, curiosity might have driven her to at least look into it, but she had a more critical assignment now. She didn’t want to know if Matt killed his father because if she found out that he did, it could ruin humanity’s chance to undo a four hundred-year-old mistake. No, somehow she would have to find evidence that he had not done it–and it would have to be good because the police and The Establishment had made up their minds about his guilt.

“So,” Captain Flint said, trying and failing to sound casual, “what was the meeting about?”

“Do you really think I’m going to answer that question?” Grace asked.

“All right, then. How about this one? Why did you take the meeting?”

In this, she felt, she could be perfectly honest. “Curiosity.”

“You wanted to know why he wanted to hire someone on the blacklist?”

“Something like that.” Exactly that.

“The Establishment is pretty curious about that too.”

Grace shrugged.

“They’re going to find out,” Captain Flint said. “They’re searching your apartment right now.”

They wouldn’t find anything, Grace told herself. There’s no way they would go searching through random floorboards for the hidden safe.

“How do you know I took the job?” Grace asked.

“You stopped by the bank on the way home.”

Damn. They did do the thing right.

“Look,” Grace said, putting as much venom in her words as she could muster. She could muster a lot. “Do those Establishment creeps want me to find them a murderer or do they want to bug me about a silly little job that’s got nothing to do with them? It’s one or the other.”

Captain Flint put his hands up. “Fine, fine! Whatever you say.”

He gave up way to easily. That meant The Establishment wanted her to investigate Matt, and they thought they could learn why he’d hired from the blacklist another way. She’d have to watch her step.

“All right, why don’t you tell me what you do know about this Stanton case?” Grace said.

“You’ve seen the news?” Flint asked.

Grace nodded.

“They didn’t leave out much. We haven’t confirmed the disappearance of the holosuit, but they got it right. There was no sign of forced entry or exit, which means this was an inside job. Whoever did this stole the suit, then tracked down Mr. Stanton.”

“Tracked him down?” Grace echoed. “The news made it sound like an accident.”

Flint shook his head. “We don’t think so. Mr. Stanton headed for a bunker when the alarms went off. Whoever killed him did it while he was en route. There was no other reason for the intruder to have been in the company’s basement. Surveillance photos caught the murder, but of course, they’re meaningless. The holosuit thief took on the image of a building receptionist, who was definitely seated at the front desk at the time of the murder.”

“Any possibility that surveillance cameras caught someone stealing the suit?” Grace asked.

“We got video of a number of people going in and out of the lab where they kept the holosuit. They were just about to unveil it and had plenty of VIPs coming through for a preview. Matt was one of them.”

“Matt was in there when the alarm went off?” Grace asked.

“We’re not actually sure when the suit went missing. Someone swapped it out for a realistic-looking fake, which meant they knew what it looked like in advance.”

“You think Matt hid a suit under his clothing?” Grace asked.

“The holosuit is about this big,” Flint used his hands to describe an object about the size of his thumb. “It projects a holographic field that covers a man’s body like a suit. It isn’t actually a suit. A technician noticed the swap when he went to run more tests, shortly after the VIP party left.”

“How shortly?

“Half an hour,” Flint said.

“That’s pretty flimsy evidence,” Grace said.

“Which is why we need you. You can get closer to Matt, find out if there’s something more.”

Fat chance. “Send me copies of all the evidence you have. I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better. I can’t help you this time if you fail.”

“Why did you help me before?” She had little hope he’d answer her this time when he hadn’t answered last time, but she had to try.

Flint walked around the desk and extended his hand for her to shake. As she took it, she felt a slip of paper pressed into her hand. She didn’t even flinch as she palmed it and stood to go.

“I’ll have my officers drive you home.”