Retiree 2.0 Read online

  Brett pulled up a chair and watched, along with Alana, both of them riveted to the screen. Brett said, “I hope that Inspector MacGruder knows what he’s doing here. This seems even riskier than what we did last week.”

  Alana said, “I’m getting the impression that I’m the only one who thought we did a good job that night at the warehouse. Am I wrong?”

  Rhys blinked twice, and Alana’s mind began racing as her recollection of the events of that evening began coursing through her consciousness. So far, the only person who agreed with her actions was Kyeong, and now the very same man was once again venturing into harm’s way, in what could be an even more dangerous situation. Perhaps both she and... It suddenly occurred to Alana that she did not even know the man’s name, only his job, and that she had not even bothered to try to find out.

  When they had reached the building, Kyeong began using hand-motions to direct the others into position. One trooper climbed a ladder and took up a position on the roof of another building where he would have a clear line of fire down two sides of the structure. Rhys hid nearest to the air conditioning machinery, within the effective range of his pistol. The compressors within the box were humming, drowning out any noise made by trooper Michaels as he slunk over to the HVAC unit and began examining it.

  Alana manipulated her desktop, switching the satellite view to an infrared scan, however, the sun was still striking the solar panels atop the roof directly, and she was unable to see any occupants. She continued to fiddle with the controls, and a blueprint of the building appeared, superimposed over the satellite view. Another swipe of her fingers hid everything except the floor plans. She said, “Ben, this is a two-story building. The bottom floor is open, probably some kind of storage facility. The top floor is configured for offices, but it’s an open floor plan. There may be modular walls installed. In any event, I can’t scan through the roof. The sun is too hot right now.”

  Rhys whispered, knowing he was out of sight of and inaudible to Inspector MacGruder, “Thanks for the information. Can I get you to monitor the overhead view and let me know if you see anything before it surprises us?”

  Alana switched back to the satellite view, “I most certainly can.”

  Trooper Michaels removed a multi-tool from his web gear and used it to pry open one of the maintenance covers on the box. He reached inside, and pulled hard on something until it gave way. The compressors stopped running, winding down first to a whirr of its fans and finally to an occasional ping made by water condensing out of the air and hitting the drip pan. Michaels dashed back into cover.

  Alana said, “Ben, do you know how to turn up the gain on your ears?”

  Rhys blinked twice, and the audio feed from his broadcast began picking up the least of sounds, from a pair of birds tweeting somewhere on the roofs to ambient noise from the street a block away, as well as from aircraft passing at a great distance overhead.

  Minutes passed, and nothing happened. Alana could see the trooper on the roof remove his helmet and use a cloth of some kind to wipe the sweat from his hair and forehead. He had placed himself directly in the sunlight, and his black tactical clothing was certainly adding to his discomfort. Nonetheless, he remained prone, hiding behind a low eave. Even more minutes passed, when finally, Alana and Brett could hear a new sound, a soft hum that was likely inaudible to the others on the team. Alana said, “Ben, be very, very quiet. That sounds like a camera drone.”

  Rhys started to answer, “Can—”

  Alana shushed him before he could continue, “If we can hear it, it can hear you. I can’t see it yet, but it might be a pocket drone, like we use. Stay in cover.”

  Another minute passed, and the humming sound waxed and waned as its source moved around. Alana could not see it, but she was presuming that it was orbiting the building. Eventually, the hum faded completely. Alana said, “I don’t think it spotted anyone, but it was too small for me to see on the satellite view.”

  More minutes passed before the clear sound of a heavy door opening and closing registered on Rhys’ hearing. He turned down the gain on his earphones, but the sound of approaching footsteps on the asphalt did not need amplification. Alana said, “I see him. One man, coming out of the door on the far end. If you stay hidden, I think he’ll walk right past you. I’ll tell you when you’ll be able to get the drop on him.”

  Another half-minute or so passed by. Rhys could hear the heels on the pavement. From the clump-clump sound, they weren’t athletic shoes. Alana watched the overhead view as the man carefully walked down the alley, almost as if he was expecting trouble. She switched the overhead view back to the infrared scan, and the man appeared as a bright-red blob. As she deftly removed the special filter, she said, “This one’s alive. He’s not an android or a cyborg. Wait about ten more seconds...”

  Brett made a point of scrutinizing the other areas of the top-down map, but he did not see anything that Alana had missed.

  “Go!” shouted Alana.

  Rhys stood and stepped out from behind his concealment, a stack of wooden shipping crates that had been piled up beside the wall. He drew his pistol and leveled it at the suspect. Alana and Brett could see the target, a shaven-headed, muscular black man wearing a full suit of tight-fitting, athletic-style clothes in the middle of summer. A crosshair appeared in the middle of the screen at the same time that the ammo counter in Rhys’ HUD turned red. It locked on to the small of the suspect’s back. Rhys pulled the trigger, and the shot echoed up and down the alleyway. The stun bullet hit its mark, and the man was wreathed in the flashing arcs of a powerful electrical discharge.

  The man did not fall. He whipped his body around to face Detective Rhys. Even for the observers in the office, the scene appeared to go into slow motion. The man barked, “C'est un piège! Planifiez Zee!” He then pulled a pistol that had been tucked down the front of his belt. Gripping the weapon with both hands, he fired at Rhys before turning to run. The camera jerked as a burst of bullets struck Rhys’ body. Rhys instinctively dove back behind the crates.

  Alana shouted, “Ben, he’s wearing an e-shield. Your stun bullets won’t work. Are you okay?”

  Alana and Brett watched as Rhys frantically dropped his stun magazine and slapped in a different ammo type.

  Suddenly, Rhys’ receiver broke out in chatter from the other policemen, so much so quickly that Rhys, Alana, nor Brett could separate the voices, not even MacGruder’s heavy accent. Additional shots rang out as the crossfire Kyeong had set up cut loose with controlled bursts of submachine gun fire. The Korean-American SWAT leader yelled, “Perp down! Perp down! Cease fire!”

  MacGruder began barking orders, “Mutombo, stay on the roof and neutralize any suspects. Try to wing them if you can! Michaels, first aid and subdue the suspect, and call for an ambulance and additional backup! Kyeong, with me!”

  Rhys looked around the corner and saw MacGruder and Kyeong running toward him.

  MacGruder said, “Rhys, are you able to continue?”

  The view dipped acutely as Rhys nodded in reply.

  MacGruder continued, “Then let’s go!”

  Rhys trotted alongside MacGruder and Kyeong as the trio raced toward the corner of the building around which the first enemy had appeared.

  On the satellite view, Alana spotted two more subjects as they dashed through the gap between the buildings in view of the satellite. She said, “Two suspects just dashed away from the building, headed south. Maggie should have brought more people to cordon—”

  Before Alana could finish, Rhys, MacGruder, and Kyeong were thrown to the ground as the center of the building exploded, buckling the outer walls, collapsing the roof, and sending a massive, orange fireball skyward. As Alana yelled, “Ben!” Brett yelled, “Holy shit!”

  Rhys’ camera landed looking skyward, and he quickly rolled aside as debris from the fragmented roof began raining down around him. He said as he stood up again, “I’m all right, I think.”

  He looked around the alley for the ot
her men. Kyeong was shaking his head, apparently stunned by the blast, but he was able to sit up without assistance. MacGruder was gritting his teeth, cursing over the sounds of the nearby blaze and collapsing building supports. He was elevating his left leg above the ground, as he pushed himself backwards toward the wall of the adjacent building. He was leaving a trail of blood on the pavement. Rhys zoomed in, and it was apparent that the Inspector had a metal rod protruding from his thigh.

  Rhys said, “Alana, I need to break this connection so I can start calling for support. I’ll call back when we’re safe and sound.”

  Alana said, “Roger that,” and her desktop cut to flat gray.” She leaned back in her chair before turning to Brett and saying, “I make mistakes just like everyone, but that was a textbook example of how not to conduct a raid.”

  Just over ten minutes had passed before Alana got the call from Chief Bennett. To say that his tone conveyed displeasure at the outcome of the raid would be an understatement that could be expressed in orders of magnitude. Bennett said, “MacGruder’s on his way to the hospital. I want you to get down there as soon as you can and assume control of the scene.”

  Alana’s sarcasm was apparent, “Yes sir, I’ll get right on that.”

  “Don’t give me a hard time, Graves. Grab whoever is in forensics and haul them down there with you with a full kit. Secure that site and find out everything you can before Security Division swoops in and sequesters our evidence. Do you need directions?”

  “No. I’m on my way now,” Alana said as she simultaneously stood and terminated the call. Grabbing her mackintosh from the hook on the wall, she slid open the office door and told Brett, “Remain on your case for now, Detective Crabtree. Call me if you need anything.”

  Sunday, 9 July, 19:30

  The building was still smoldering as Alana crept through the wreckage. She said, “Are you getting my video feed, Comerford?”

  “Yep. Move over to that black spot ahead. It looks like it might have been the center of the blast.”

  “I wish you were doing this instead of me.”

  “Fire Chief says no. The only reason he let you in there is that you’re a cyborg. If you want, I can use a robot instead.”

  “No, I don’t want to wait for that. Time may be a factor.” Alana ducked around some fallen I-beam girders and approached the spot Comerford had indicated. She asked, “What do you think?”

  “Car bomb. It looks like an incendiary.”

  “Plasma charge?”

  “Nnnnnno. I don’t think so. The car’s been flattened, so it didn’t go off inside of it. Use that chemical sniffer I gave you and take an air sample from around ground zero.”

  Alana removed the ovoid device from her coat pocket, pushed the on button, and let it do its work. Comerford said, “See if you can find the car’s transponder box in the debris while I look over this scan. It would be in the drive train compartment. Probably under the front hood.”

  Alana said, “I’m not positive as to which end is which, but I’ll give it a shot. Black box, about ten centimeters square?”

  “Yes.”

  Alana zoomed in on the scorched and blackened concrete, but she didn’t see what she was looking for. She stepped inside the car’s skeleton and began tossing out ruined parts, sifting for the transponder.

  A minute later, Comerford said, “It was either a thermobaric or a fuel-air bomb, and I’d lay odds on the latter.”

  Alana said as she tossed the car’s transaxle aside with one of its flattened tires still attached, “There’s a difference? I thought those were the same thing.”

  “Similar effect, but the bomb’s made from different things, and they work a little differently. There’s still a lot of trace carbons in the air. It looks like it’s mostly petroleum offshoots, so my preliminary guess is it was an IED. But whoever made it knew what they were doing. I’m guessing they had it in the trunk and triggered it remotely, but that may change when I get to look closer.”

  With the transaxle out of the way, the battery and drive motor were easily accessed, and Alana found that for which she was looking. She hastened out of the wreckage and handed the small, oblong box to Comerford, who offered her a damp towel in exchange. Alana did her best to remove the soot from her hands, but it was obvious that a shower for her was in order, and her formerly khaki overcoat was going to need a professional cleaning, if not a visit to the recycling bin. Alana had barely enough time to hand the blackened rag back to Comerford before she saw Rhys approach, leading two men, one of whom Alana recognized from her dealings with Security Division during the Aaron Stone affair. Special Agent Derringer smiled as he recognized DCI Graves, and he said, “I’m glad to see you’re back on the job, Inspector Graves. Are you still saving yourself often, as your manufacturer suggests?”

  Alana corrected, “Chief Inspector. What can I do for our stalwart and constant allies at SD today?”

  Derringer’s friendly face took a sudden turn for the smuggest, “In this case, it’s what I can do for you. SD will be assuming control of the scene under the—”

  Alana, Comerford, and Rhys simultaneously said, “International Anti-Terrorism Act.”

  “My people will be arriving shortly. In the meantime, if you can cordon off the scene of the crime and hand over any evidence, it would be greatly appreciated.”

  Alana lied through her polyxytate teeth, “Nothing to share. Forensics hasn’t had time to send in the robots yet.”

  Derringer looked Alana over, and he wasn’t buying it, “You’ve been inside. Did you find anything?”

  “I was checking for survivors. I didn’t find any.”

  “Did you take any prisoners?”

  Knowing that she was technically not lying, as MacGruder’s team had made the arrest, she said, “If there are any, I haven’t seen them. In any case, I’m now handing over the responsibility for the scene to you. Enjoy.”

  Derringer was clearly suspicious, doubtless a state of mind that all government spies and counter-spies experienced constantly. He said, “Please call me if you ‘find’ any. You should have my number, and if not, your Chief does.” The two SD agents walked away and began barking orders to the firemen, rescue workers, and plain-clothes police who were already on the scene. Rhys remained with Alana and Comerford.

  Alana asked Rhys, “How’s Maggie?”

  “We got him on the second ambulance out. With any luck, he’ll be getting checked into the hospital right about now.”

  Alana said, “Comerford, please keep that item in the family. When you get finished with it, call Detective Rhys. We still have at least two suspects on the loose.”

  An armed tactical drone flew overhead and began circling the area, probably looking for the men who got away from MacGruder’s raid. It was unmarked, which meant that it was Security Division’s robot.

  Alana said, “Let’s go, Ben.”

  The two cyborgs remained silent until they were both seated within the police car Alana had requisitioned for the trip. Alana asked, “Where did they take the suspect?”

  Rhys said, “Long Beach Memorial.”

  “Is he under guard?”

  “Kyeong and Michaels went with him.”

  Alana asked, pointedly, “Under the circumstances, was it wise to leave them alone with him?”

  Rhys said, “What do you think they’d do? Murder him in front of the robodocs?”

  Alana looked askance at Rhys, “You heard them talking about payback, right? Car, drive to Long Beach Memorial Hospital, police clearance is authorized. Pull up to the emergency room entrance.”

  The car’s Vira answered, “Yes, ma’am,” as electric motor beneath the sedan hummed, and the car moved out of the alley, its blue lights flashing. Other vehicles were diverted by the automated traffic control system to the side of the road to allow them to pass with relative ease, given that the local traffic was being affected by the public spectacle of an exploding warehouse.

  “Where did they take Maggie?”


  Rhys said, “I’m not sure yet. He hasn’t called. I’m presuming they took him to the Navy hospital, since it’s the closest government med facility I know of.”

  Alana asked, “How are you doing? Did that gunman do any damage when he shot you?”

  “I have a couple of yellow lights flashing on my HUD, but I don’t think it’s anything too serious. It was just a ten-millimeter slug-thrower, nothing special.”

  With their emergency lights running and a few wails of their siren as they passed intersections with heavy foot, bicycle, and roller-skate traffic, their car made it to the hospital in about ten minutes. As the car queued up in the line to the emergency entrance, Alana said, “Car, stop.” She unfastened her restraints and opened her door.

  Rhys asked, “Impatient?”

  Removing her sooty overcoat and tossing it into the back seat, Alana said, “Yes, but mainly, I want you to go straight to the shopital for a diagnosis and any repairs you might need. You were shot a few times. Those yellow lights could turn red on short notice.”

  Rhys objected, “With all due respect, ma’am, I’d rather be looking in on my suspect—”

  Alana cut him off, “That’s an order, Ben. I need to make sure you’re okay in case I need you later. Call me when you’ve been repaired.”

  Rhys turned his head away, looking straight out of the windshield. His displeasure was plain to see, but the exact reasons were less obvious. It could have been owing to any number of matters. As Alana reached the entrance, she glanced behind her to confirm that the police car was indeed driving past.

  She entered through the sliding emergency room doors. Her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the hectic activity within the admissions area. It had been some time since Alana had visited a normal hospital instead of a shopital. The cybernetic repair facilities were never this active, and rarely packed with living people, who chatted, cried, laughed, sneezed, wheezed, and coughed in a dissonant chorus of human sounds. Flashing her badge to the security guard, she strode to the front of the line and asked the curly haired, dark-skinned, female receptionist, “A gunshot victim was admitted within the last hour. I need the room number.”