"The Transgenic Falcon"
Chapter Fifteen

I’d been thinking about asking Belinda to get some dinner with me, between not eating much today and the double Scotch I needed more than a few crackers and cheese in my system. But it was not to be. Instead of her waiting for me in the little lounge where Catherwood had parked her, it was Johnny Round’s face I saw.

Not a welcome substitution, I don’t mind saying.

“Where is Belinda?” I asked, with that laser wit I am so known and revered for.

“It’s getting on eight o’clock, so I told her I’d take the evening shift with you,” Round said.

That rang false. Round should be fully occupied by the hunt for Mick Taylor. What could tear him away from an ass-covering necessity like that? Whatever it was I was in no mood to play along.

“Well, you probably took it on for nothing. I was just going to make sure my quants had everything they need, and remind them that sleep is, in fact, a requirement, then head home. Belinda was my ride, care to give me a lift?”

“Home? We’ve a nice guest apartment set aside for you, no ride needed. After all Eamon, we are on a tight clock here,” Round said standing and buttoning his jacket.

I put on a smile to hide my concern about this development. After my little tête-à-tête with Otho I was remembering the warning about not coming to his interest loud and clear. My memory likes to work on the installment plan. It often reminds me of things I shouldn’t do after the fact; it’s the price I pay for stuffing the poor thing so full. “That’s really neighborly of you and all, but if the goal is to have me at my rested best, I’ve need to sleep at home. I’ve got terrible insomnia and trying to sleep in a new place with a lot of stress is a sure recipe for no sleep at all.”

I don’t think Round believed me. He gave me his cop face. It was a good cop face, looking skeptical, bored and a little dangerous at the same time. He showed it to me for a couple beats longer than he had to, but it didn’t make a dent on my half-smile. Its my own version of the cop face.

Finally he nodded, “If that’s the way it has to be, I’ll have my car brought around and run you home.” He made his call and I talked to Chatham about priorities for the Coroners report. Round and I traded insincere smiles and left Otho’s apartment.

It was a long walk from the lair of the high-muckety-muck to the lobby of Gen-Tech proper and it happened mostly in silence. There was definitely something going on with Johnny, and it wasn’t good.

How did I know? Well, little things mostly. First off it’s pretty rare to take a twenty minute walk with another person and not talk. Usually the only time that happens is when you are being led somewhere under guard. This walk had a lot of that feeling, what with Round staying just a half-step behind me to my right. Not far enough back to be out of my peripheral vision, and close enough that he could put a big hand on my shoulder at any time, without warning. Then there was his use of the cop face. Even when I could get a look at him in the elevators (You don’t want to be looking over your shoulder when someone is trying to unnerve you. It gives the impression they are succeeding.) he just gave that disinterested mild stare. It seemed that my old friend was getting ready for something, but I was content to let him move in his own time. He was probably worried about the screw-up of letting Mick Taylor get away.

The only conversation inside Gen-Tech was as we crossed the lobby. It was nearly empty at this hour, and the highly decorative Virginia of this morning had been replaced by a male version. He, along with his hair cut, jaw and skull were so solid and squared-off he just had to be named Rock or Butch. Or given the narrowness of his forehead, maybe Ogg.

As we were walking by, Johnny finally put that hand on my shoulder.

“Wait a second, Eamon, I can’t let you take Gen-Tech property out of the building,” he said through a smile as friendly as a tax audit.

My mind went right to the holo crystal I’d snagged from Cho’s Draw of Fun. I looked at Round and took a chance. “What? You mean the handheld?”

“Sorry” he said, not looking sorry, “but it is G-T’s property and it has all kinds of data about the investigation on it. It can’t leave.”

I gave him a big fake smile too. “Really? Even just to my apartment and back?”

“Call it the price of a good nights sleep, Eamon. You could always sleep here if you really don’t want to let it out of your sight…”

“Oh, well, I can’t pass up my beauty sleep,” I said as I fished out the handheld.

“Brent here will put it in a lock box; you can reclaim it tomorrow morning.” Round said with a gesture to the very fit young man watching our interplay like someone at a tennis match. I called up the encryption program, turned away and whispered the key, “Lynn Delfore puts cardigans on her hamster”, locking down the little computer. I turned back to see Round gently steaming at my gaucherie.

“We can’t be too careful with that data,” I said as I handed it to Brent.

“Anything else belonging to Gen-Tech you need to have put away?” Round asked. Somehow I’d hit his cop radar. He couldn’t know I’d taken the crystal, no one knew except me. But something in my reaction had him suspicious. He had a smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes at all.

“Do you wan to search me?” I asked holding my arms out to the sides. When in doubt, push to make the other guy think he’s over-played his hand. It’s a twofer, one, if they search you can claim you either forgot or someone had planted it on you. The last one is seriously weak, but if you play the innocent card hard enough in the beginning it gives it a little more utility. Two, you might look like you have nothing to hide. Between Round’s smile and my innocent act we were all going for the local dramatic society awards tonight.

Round let the statement hang, thinking it over, and giving me time to sweat. I considered saying sorry for being a dick with the handheld, but I was on thin enough ice with Johnny as it was. Over explaining or playing anything but the offended innocent was probably going to break it. Either way, I’d know in a few seconds.

After what felt like an eternity Round shook his head, “No, of course not. I know you’re trustworthy, Eamon,” he said, still watching me carefully to see if there was any undue relief in my expression.

“You better,” I told him dropping my arms, but still smiling, “Don’t forget what I’m here to do.” Oh yeah, we were all getting the little statuette for tonight’s performance.

We said our goodbyes to Brent, who very impressed by what was probably his boss’s boss’s boss, even wrote out a nice receipt for my handheld. Another guard held the main doors open for us, and we walked quickly to the low-slung convertible which a third guard had brought around. There were still protesters from each camp, just like this morning, though there were fewer of them, and they were a lot quieter. Maybe this was the B team; putting in their time in the hope of getting promoted to standing in the blazing sun and having no one pay much attention to them.

I folded myself into the black land-rocket as the metal roof retracted and folded away in some overly complicated manner behind us. It was a true sports coupé, a two-seater with so little space for passengers it was better described as worn than driven. It even went so far as to have a manual transmission, something I hadn’t seen since I was a kid.

Round nodded to the guard, punched the button on the dashboard and then peeled us away from G-T and the protestors. I couldn’t be absolutely sure, but I think both sides were a little hushed with envy as they watched us speed away.

When we hit the main roads, Johnny didn’t join the auto-drive lane, instead he wove back and forth through the manual lanes, gaining any slight advantage he could by slicing to the right or left with almost no notice. The car was silent except for the sound of the wheels on the road, all electric cars are, and even though Houston and most of Texas had held out to the bitter end, the last internal combustion engine car had legally been driven in the city more than ten years ago.

“What’s the point of the manual transmission?” I asked, “Each of the hubs has a direct drive, so it can’t be faster or more efficient.”

A big white grin split Round’s black face, “It isn’t, but it’s a hell of a lot more fun. This model even comes with a clutch petal. I’m just changing the torque ratios, but it lets you know you’re actually driving!”

I’ll give him this, it was kind of fun to rush through traffic like an automotive predator sliding through a grazing herd of fat minivans and sedans. In a very short while we pulled up in-front of the big old house where I rent the top floor. Johnny hadn’t asked where I live, nor had I given him any directions. Another hint everything was not hunky-dory.

Round shut down the ground-rocket and turned to look at me. His face was serious and solemn. “Eamon, we need to have a talk, you and I.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that impression, Johnny. Why don’t you tell me what we need to talk about?”

“Call it a friendly warning.”

“A warning? About what?”

“That looking too far afield of this investigation could have serious consequences for you, and others.”

“Well, isn’t that cryptic?” I asked, worried and annoyed by what he might be implying. “Care to be a little more specific?”

“Let’s say there are things that have happened at Gen-Tech involving the principals in the investigation that are in no way your business. Just knowing about them would be a major problem for you.”

Hell and Blood! He was talking about the Goodnight’s cure, no doubt. Did Belinda tell him she’d bragged about it? That didn’t scan for me; she was cagey in the way she’d told me, avoiding an actual admission of wrongdoing. Were the offices we used bugged? Possible, very possible in fact given the way things went at Gen-Tech. Still if he knew I knew, he’d have come right out and said it. This all flashed through my mind, right ahead of the white hot anger. Guess which part of my psyche won?

“You know, friends don’t usually threaten other friends, Johnny” I said through tightly clenched teeth.

He gave me his hard smile, cop eyes and all. “Then maybe we’re out of the realm of friends and into something else; say Police Chief letting a Private Investigator know where the lines are. And what happens to people who cross them.”

“I don’t take kindly to being threatened Johnny, you should know that already, Police Chief or no.”

“You might not believe it Hunt, but I am really trying to help you here,” Round countered, “If you cross certain lines, then things are out of my hands. Yeah, it’s a threat, but it’s not me that threatening you.”

“No, you’re just the executioner. You don’t decide on who is condemned, your boss makes that call. Jesus, Johnny, I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did.” I told him looking away, saddened by what Gen-Tech had done to a good man.

“Oh, you knew me; you just didn’t want to look at this side is all,” Round said bitterly.

“And now you’ve sold your soul to be top cop in Gen-Tech.”

Round looked at me for a long second, his smile gone, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “That’s right, I did. And I give good value for what I’m paid. So, take this warning from an old friend, if you get sideways with Johnson or Gen-Tech, I’m the guy that will make sure you play along like a good boy.”

I flipped my seat belt off and climbed out of the car, shutting the door harder than necessary. “Don’t call it that Round. If you’re going to put the frighteners on me, we aren’t friends anymore. And let’s be really clear here. I could handle that you’re a bent cop; you were never squeaky clean to start with. But when you are so twisted you’d come at me with threats and warnings, well, that’s where we part ways. I have standards you know, and you don’t meet them any more.”

His face went through a few different subtle changes, half signals of anger, pain, maybe a little grief, then settled back into his blank cop face. “If that’s the way you want it Hunt, no problem. We’ll just torch this bridge and call it done.”

I turned and walked away from the car, only to hear Johnny shout, “I don’t know why you’re doing this. After all, we’ve enough to pin this whole thing on Taylor. As soon as I get my hands on him, its all over.”

I turned back to face him from the sidewalk, “You don’t have motive or the murder weapon.”

He shrugged, “Cho was an asshole to his employees. There’s a nice motive. And I am the Chief of Police. You think I won’t be able to cobble together a murder weapon?” Being the kind of guy who had to have the last word, Johnny Round started up his sports car and zoomed away into the night.

Great. Just freaking nifty! In the course of one car ride I lost a friend, had been threatened for knowing too much and found out that poor Mick Taylor was going to go down for this crime weather he did it or not. Lovely. I trudged up to my third-floor apartment, figuring this day couldn’t possibly get any worse.